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A FIRST COURSE IN 
PHILOSOPHY 



BY 
JOHN E. RUSSELL 

PBOPBSSOB OP FHILOSOPHT IN WILLIAMS COLLEGE 




NEW YORK 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 

1913 






COPTBIGHT, 1913 
BY 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 



©C1,A346259 



TO ALL MY STUDENTS IN PHILOSOPHY WHO, IN SUC- 
CESSIVE CLASSES FOR NEARLY A QUARTER OP 
A CENTURY, HAVE BEEN AN UNFAILING 
SPRING OP PLEASURE AND INSPIRA- 
TION, THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED IN 
AFFECTIONATE REMEMBRANCE 



PREFACE 

This book, the outgrowth of more than twenty years of 
teaching, aims especially to meet the wants of students who 
are young in the study of philosophy. It is my hope also, 
that this book will be of service to other students who, work- 
ing in other fields, desire to know something of those prob- 
lems of the world and our human life with which philoso- 
phers are occupied. 

I have endeavored to set forth the main doctrine of 
philosophy in terms sufficiently simple, and in an exposition 
sufficiently ample to enable the student to comprehend the 
meaning of these doctrines and to appreciate their signifi- 
cance. 

I have aimed to encourage the student to philosophize 
for himself, rather than merely to appropriate the product 
of other men's thinking. With this purpose in view, I 
have let the representatives of various philosophical theories 
advocate and defend their respective doctrines; and for the 
most part, have refrained from closing the debate. 

My acquaintance with philosophy has taught me that 
its questions are still open, and that it is the mark of the 
truly philosophic mind to hold whatever convictions to 
which it has attained, as tentative and liable to revision in 
the light of fuller evidence. J. E. R. 

Williams College, 
February 4, 1913. 



CONTENTS 

Chapter Page 

I. Introduction 1 

I. The Meaning of Philosophy 1 

II. Philosophy and Science 1 

III. Philosophy and ReUgion 5 

IV. The Reasons for Philosophy 6 

PART I 
THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

II. The Meaning of Being Real 11 

III. The Nature of the Real 19 

I. Dualism 19 

II. Materialism 26 

III. Idealism 39 

IV, Critical or Agnostic monism 60 

IV. The Problem op the One and the Many 63 

I. Monism 64 

II. Pluralism 74 

III. Monistic Pluralism — Pluralistic Monism .... 85 

V. The Soul and its Connection with the Body .... 92 

VI. Cosmology 103 

I. The Conceptions of Space and Time 103 

II. Uniformity of Nature and Causation 117 

III. Mechanical and Teleological Conceptions of the 

Worid 129 

IV. Objections to Teleology 140 

PART II 

EPISTEMOLOGY 

VII. The Doctrine of Knowledge 149 

The Meaning of Knowledge 149 

I. RationaUsm 157 

II. Kant's Theory of Knowledge 164 

III. The Empirical Theory of Knowledge 175 

XV. The Epistemology of Royce 187 

vii 



viii CONTENTS 

Chapter Page 

V The Pragmatic Theory of Knowledge 191 

The Pragmatic Meaning of Truth 202 

The Pragmatic Meaning of ReaUty or the Obj ect 

in Knowledge 205 

Objections to the Pragmatic Theory of Knowl- 
edge 207 

PART III 

THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

VIII. The Philosophy of Conduct 223 

I. The Problem of Morality 225 

11. The Problem of Religion 262 

Bibliography 297 

Index 301 



A FIRST COUItSE IN PHILOSOPHY 

CHAPTER I 

INTRODUCTION 

I. THE MEANING OF PHILOSOPHY 
The following may serve as definitions of philosophy: 

1. Any systematic and persistent thinking upon the nature 
and meaning of the real world and our existence. 

2. An attempt to reach ultimate explanation of experience. 

3. An attempt to solve certain problems which the uni- 
verse about us and our human life force upon our minds. 

II. PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 

Respecting the relation of philosophy to science, two 
views are held. One view is that they are fundamentally 
identical. Their subject is the same, their ultimate aim is 
the same; the difference between them is, that science exists 
only in the form of special sciences, each of which having a 
field within which its investigations are confined and within 
which its principles and explanations are valid, while the 
field of philosophy itself is coextensive with all the fields of 
the special sciences, philosophy being the ideal consumma- 
tion of each special science, a final synthesis of them all. 
Make each science complete, unite the special knowledge 

so obtained, and the result would be philosophic knowledge. 

1 



2 INTRODUCTION 

The aim of philosophy would be realized in the realization 
of the aims of each of the special sciences. 

The other view is that philosophy is essentially different 
from science, that it has a field of its own, problems peculiar 
to itself, and which do not lie in the field of the special 
sciences. 

Were each science to attain ideal completion, the task of 
philosophy would still remain, its problems would still 
await solution. Did we now possess complete science 
the questions which philosophy attempts to answer would 
still be open. Philosophy has a field of its own which can 
be delimited. 

In one aspect this field includes and seems to be only 
coextensive with the special fields of science. The reason 
for this close relation is the fact, that philosophy presup- 
poses and appropriates the knowledge and the concep- 
tions which each science supplies, and by means of these 
philosophy seeks to frame a conception of the whole of 
reality which will find a place for the partial truths and 
conceptions of science and to unite them in a total view 
and final synthesis. 

But, obviously, that which seeks the synthesis of the 
sciences must itself be distinct from each of them, and 
from science as science. The problem and aim of philoso- 
phy therefore clearly demarcates its field from the field of 
the special sciences. 

To be specific, there are two sorts of matters which do 
not lie within the province of the special sciences, and 
which do lie within the field of philosophy: 1. matters 
which each science must presuppose and make its working 
assumptions or postulates; 2. matters which lie beyond 



INTRODUCTION S 

the bounds which science sets for its pecuHar task, residual 
problems which transcend the boundary lines within which 
scientific explanation moves. 

The first class of matters which lie outside the field of 
science contain such conceptions as the following: Space, 
Time, Matter, Causation, Force, Life, Mind, etc. The 
exact meaning of these conceptions lies outside of the 
field of science. It is the function of science to describe in 
the simplest and fewest possible terms the motions of that 
which we call matter; but science does not undertake to 
say what matter is. Science explains the phenomena of 
life, the evolution of living beings, it describes their various 
behaviors, but it does not tell us what life is, whence it 
came or whither it goes. Science describes the various 
functions of mind, it formulates the laws of their occurrence, 
it investigates the connection between these phenomena 
and phenomena of the physical order; but science leaves 
unanswered the question. What is mind ? 

The second species of matters which lie beyond the bound- 
aries of science are the problems of meaning, of value, of 
purpose. These questions have their source in our human 
experiences, in our rational, our feeling, our active nature; 
these questions of whence, whither, why, and what for, 
are the most significant and the most urgent ones which 
the world and life put to us; but to them science has no 
answer. Her function is exhausted when she has answered 
the question of how. The function of science is descrip- 
tion; so far as the world is describable, it belongs to science. 
But the world of description is not all of the world. There 
is a world of purposes; there are meanings and values, and 
of these science takes no account. 



4 INTRODUCTION 

One of the most important achievements of modem 
science is the sharply defined and narrowly drawn limits 
to scientific explanation. It is to this clearer understanding 
of its own task and its limits that science is in no small 
degree indebted for her most important and brilliant 
achievements. 

The emancipation of modern science from metaphysics 
coincides with the rapid progress, the surprising develop- 
ments of science within a comparatively recent period; 
but this more distinct and narrower boundary of science 
is at the same time a clearer determination of the field of 
philosophy and it is more possible than it has been at any 
time before, to render to science the things that belong to 
science, and to philosophy the things that belong to philoso- 
phy. This second view of the relation between philosophy 
and science is the one we must adopt; they are clearly 
different in their subject matters and in their aims. 

But while they are different, they are intimately related, 
and, on the side of philosophy, the relation is one of depend- 
ence. Philosophy presupposes the results attained by the 
special sciences; it can frame its world view only by uniting 
in that view the conceptions which the several sciences 
have elaborated. Nothing can be true in philosophy which 
is false in science; and philosophy can ignore no fact which 
science has established. But, on the other hand, science 
must confess by the very limitations she has imposed upon 
her work, that she stops short of that final explanation, 
that ultimate solution of the world problem which it is the 
very essence of our rational nature to seek after. Philosophy 
is the necessary complement of science. 



INTRODUCTION 5 

III. PHILOSOPHY AND RELIGION 
They differ in aim and motive. The aim of philosophy 
is theoretic. It is comprehensive knowledge, completeness 
of intellectual view. The aim of religion is practical; it is 
the satisfaction of life. What it seeks to know it seeks as a 
means to this end. Philosophy grows out of the rational 
demand for truth. Religion springs from the needs of the 
heart and the will. In religion, man seeks a reality to 
which he can entrust his life and all that is dear to him, a 
reality which will conserve his supreme values, prosper 
his aims, fulfill his wishes, aspirations and hopes. What 
man desires to know in religion, and all that he religiously 
desires, is, that his World or some Being of his World is 
friendly to him and is able to maintain his life against 
whatever is destructive or harmful. 

This endeavor of man to relate himself in a practical 
way to a power not himself, but which is for him and works 
for his good, is the substance underlying every manifesta- 
tion of religion, from that of primitive men to the religion 
of the most civilized men of to-day. 

Both philosophy and religion have to do with objective 
and ultimate reality, with that which has supreme signifi- 
cance and value. Both seek the solution of the problem 
of the world, or rather of our existence, our place in this 
world. It is no less vital to religion to have assurance 
that the object of its trust and worship really exists, than 
is the objective reality to the philosopher who seeks to 
comprehend it. There is a further difference which should 
not be overlooked; it is that philosophy is more comprehen- 
sive than religion; it includes religion as one of its problems. 
Philosophy discharges the same function in respect to our 



6 INTRODUCTION 

religious experience that it exercises in relation to science, 
or to man's life in all its aspects; that function is to gain a 
comprehensive world view, in which the beliefs and ideals 
of religion shall have their place determined, their value 
for life rightly appraised, their claim to validity or truth 
passed upon by that highest tribunal, the reflecting and 
valuing self conscious spirit of man. For instance, religion 
and science are said to be in conflict, and the problem of a 
reconciliation between them is of pressing importance. 
Religion and morality have, it is claimed, changed their 
attitude to each other. In the past their relation has been 
one of mutual dependence and reciprocal influence. The 
time has now come when morality should quite dispense 
with religion; a religious belief, so far from being important 
and serviceable to the moral life, is detrimental to the highest 
type of morality. Clearly it belongs to philosopy to deter- 
mine, so far as any settlement of these matters can be made, 
what are the relations of religion and science on the one 
side and of religion and morality on the other, 

IV. THE REASONS FOR PHILOSOPHY 

Philosophy is an inevitable undertaking. When experi- 
ence has ripened and reason is awakened and he has begun 
to eat of the tree of knowledge, man must philosophize. 
The option he has is to do so badly, or in some degree 
wisely and successfully. 

It has often been an objection to philosophy, that it 
leads only to doubt, never to knowledge; it asks questions 
to which it can give no answer, it propounds riddles it 
cannot solve; it is a fruitless labor, a vain quest; the latest 



INTRODUCTION 7 

philosophical thinker is no nearer the goal of his endeavor 
than the first who essayed the task. In their answers to 
the questions concerning the universe, the meaning and 
destiny of man's existence, the philosophers are no nearer 
an agreement than were those of the first generation. These 
conflicting solutions of philosophy should warn us from 
embarking upon an enterprise that has brought so little 
result; and admonish us against the unwisdom of concerning 
ourselves with matters which it would be wiser to conclude 
are beyond our human faculties. 

Against objections of this sort, the justification of philoso- 
phy in the following: It is not the philosopher, but the 
universe and our human life that propound the riddles 
which so tempt and baffle at the same time our ventures of 
thought. Philosophy does not invent these problems; it 
is our best endeavor to solve in some manner the problems 
we cannot avoid if we think at all; if we are to live a rational 
life, and not be content with the life of the brute. But even 
if it were true that philosophy has hitherto been a fruitless 
quest for the Holy Grail, it is better for man, worthier of 
his nature to have gone on that quest than tamely to have 
remained at home, sunk in the dull life of the brain, or 
occupied only with the tasks he can easily and surely accom- 
plish. To seek truth even if we fail to find it, is better than 
to decline the search either through fear of failure or indiffer- 
ence to the enterprise. 

Furthermore, were it the case that this labor of philosophy 
has brought no success either to the generations before 
us or to our own age, it is by no means settled that those 
who are to come after us will not succeed where we have 
failed; the way is yet long and there is time yet for achieve- 



8 INTRODUCTION 

ments in thought of which we can form but a faint 
conception. 

Be that as it may, that which has called forth philosophy 
is man's rational life, and the philosophic endeavor has been 
prompted and sustained by a deep and hitherto ineradicable 
faith, that the world and our human existence have a mean- 
ing which we are destined in an increasing measure to 
understand. Man's constitutional faith is, that he will 
not be put to intellectual confusion in the end, that his 
craving for meaning and for good are yet to be satisfied. 
Man inevitably believes that if he orders his thoughts 
aright, and makes rational his actions, his world will even- 
tually show itself to be intelligible, and his search for truth 
will not end in disappointment. 

Now this deeply wrought faith man cannot rationally 
abandon until his best has been done, his last effort made. 
To become faithless and abandon the quest until it is cer- 
tain that the world problem has no solution, until it is certain 
there is no Holy Grail, were to be unfaithful to man's own 
higher nature; it were to decline in the scale of being; to 
become something less than man. But is the case so bad 
with our human philosophizing endeavors ? Surely some- 
thing has been gained by this labor of so many generations 
of great thinkers; I for one, think the problems of phi- 
losophy, the limits within which our thinking can hope for 
success, are better understood, more clearly defined, than 
they were in the minds of the earlier philosophical thinkers. 
Now it is no slight gain to have brought the world-problem, 
and the problem of our existence into clearer more definite 
formulation, and to have discovered within what limits 
any solution of these great problems is possible, to have 



INTRODUCTION 9 

eliminated some solutions, and to have determined those 
within which our final choice must fall. 

The demarcation of the special sciences, the elimination 
from their fields of matters which are irrelevant to science; 
in short, the establishment of the sciences, is itself a philo- 
sophic achievement. For the conception of science, the 
determination of its function, its limit, is possible only if 
some point of view is taken which lies outside of the fields 
of science, from which it is possible to comprehend and 
pass judgment upon science itself; this knowing of science 
is itself a philosophical function. 

But, apart from the consideration of progress in philoso- 
phy and approximation to its final aim, philosophy is 
justified for another reason — it fosters the discipline of the 
mind, it imparts the willingness to see all, to prove all 
things, to suspend judgment until the evidence is all in; 
to exercise a rational restraint upon passional motives. This 
is both requisite to true philosophizing and the natural 
fruit of its exercise. The philosopher as such is not a 
believer, he is rather a critical observer and judge of our 
various human beliefs, or better, he is one who is seeking 
by this thoughtful survey and critical judgment to determine 
the relative truth- values of these often warring beliefs. 
Philosophy may be defined as man's endeavor to make 
rational, coherent, and satisfying his inevitable beliefs. 
Philosophy does not create beliefs, its function is to rational- 
ize them. To the philosopher, it is not so important that 
we believe, as are our reasons for believing and the coher- 
ence of a given belief with all our other beliefs and with the 
totality of our experience. 



PART I 
THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

CHAPTER II 
THE MEANING OF BEING REAL 

There are two questions which, though they are most 
intimately connected, it is nevertheless important to keep 
distinct. One question is, What should we mean by the 
predicate term, when we say a certain object is real ? The 
other question is. What is the nature of the object we accept 
as real ? Of course these two questions can be asked con- 
cerning the same object; one and the same object presents 
two aspects, is present to our minds in two ways. One of 
these aspects we signify by the term that; the other by the 
term what; using the corresponding abstract terms we speak 
now of the thatness of the object and again of the whatness 
of the object, or what means the same thing, we speak of the 
realness of the object, and of its nature as a real object. I 
may be in quite different states of mind in relation to the true 
character of a presented object. I may be absolutely cer- 
tain that the object exists; but I may be altogether uncertain 
what is the ultimate nature of that same object. Of these 
two fundamental questions in philosophy, it is plainly the 
first with which we must make a beginning. And accord- 
ingly, our first special problem in philosophy is the meaning 

11 



12 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

of being real. When for instance, I say of a star, I seem 
to be perceiving. The star is real; while of the star in my 
dream, I afterwards say, It was an unreal star, what should 
I mean by the realness of the star of my waking perception, 
and by the unrealness of the star of my dream? The 
star of my dream has all the qualities which the star of my 
waking experience possesses; it is bright with the same 
luster, it shines in the same skies, it excites the same emo- 
tions; wherein then lies the difference which I mean to 
assert when I say of one of the stars, It is real, and of the 
other. It is unreal ? In what consists this realness of the one 
and the unrealness of the other star ? The specific prob- 
lem is thus defined. We can best approach its solution 
if we first note some of the characteristics of those objects 
we regard as real. 

1. Real objects are social objects. The real star is not 
my private object; it is shared by other minds. I can 
appeal to the perceptions of my human fellows. Indeed 
I must be able to do so if I am to justify my claim that my 
star is a real star. On the contrary, the star I seem to 
perceive in a hallucination I may be experiencing is a star 
which no other mind at the same time could perceive; this 
star is not a common object; my experience is an unsocial one. 

2. The second characteristic of a real object is, it per- 
mits and demands from me a different behavior toward it 
from that which it is possible or proper for me to adopt 
toward an unreal object. I must take account of a real object 
in my thinking, in my purpose and in my actions. I must 
in some way reckon with it, and to some extent at least on 
its own terms. The real object thus coerces my behavior, 
imposes a condition upon my thinking, if that thinking is 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 13 

to attain its end. The real object in one aspect of it is an 
obstacle to my thinking, my willing and to my action in 
certain directions; it compels a choice of other directions 
if I am to go on at all, and it may not permit me to remain 
where I am. 

3. But on the other hand, the real object is also respon- 
sive to my mind, it is fulfilling in relation to some intention 
or purpose or want of mine: it answers my questions, it 
completes what would otherwise remain partial, fragmen- 
tary, and unsatisfying. This third characteristic can no 
more be denied of the real object than can the other two. 

But after all, does this statement of the characteristics 
of the objects we call real, answer our question about the 
meaning of being real ? Would any enumeration, however 
complete, of the marks which enable us to tell what objects 
are real, be a definition of what we mean by calling an object 
real? 

We may admit that a real object does possess these quali- 
ties, does function in this manner in relation to our experi- 
ence, but does all this really answer the question we are 
trying to answer, namely, wherein lies the realness of this 
object ? 

Take the characteristics we call its social significance. 
Let it be true that no object is real which all minds could 
not recognize, do we mean that it is just this fact that all 
these minds can have this same object present to them, 
which constitutes the realness of the object? Is it the 
common experience which makes the object a real one, or 
does the common experience or possibility of it afford the 
proof that the object is real? In which case the realness 
of the object is something distinct from the common experi- 



14 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

ence. It is the ground or reason for that common experi- 
ence. The realness of the object explains the common 
experience, which otherwise would be an unsolved problem 
but the mere fact that it is a social object does not constitute 
its realness. 

The case is the same with the other two characteris- 
tics of real objects. What we should mean by their being 
real is distinct from certain relations they sustain to our 
minds, certain functions they discharge, or any significance 
or value which may attach to them as real; being real, 
these two things belong to them, but it is not these things 
we should mean by their being real. The meaning of 
what is to be real, it would seem, must be sought in some 
other characteristic of the object and in some other relation 
to our minds, and it is just in this mode of existence of the 
object, its relation to a thinking or affirming mind that 
this first problem in philosophy centers. And since every 
object (or object matter of our thought) whether real or 
unreal must exist in relation to some mind, a real object 
must be in some manner related to the mind. Our problem 
can be formulated in a narrower compass and in more 
exact terms, namely: How is the real object related to the 
idea which seeks to know that object? I am indebted to 
Professor Royce for this simple but exceedingly fruitful 
definition of the problem of real being. 

Concerning real being two doctrines are held. One 
of these by an unfortunate terminology is called the real- 
istic conception of being. This doctrine holds that to be 
real means to be independent of any perceiving or thinking 
consciousness. This does not mean that the object exists 
apart from all relations to our minds. An absolutely 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 15 

unrelated object is a self contradictory conception. The 
object must sustain some relations to our minds in order 
to be judged as real or unreal. 

The realist (for so we will call him) maintains that the 
realness of the object is its independence of any merely 
perceiving or asserting mind for its character as real. The 
object was real prior to this mind's acknowledgment of it, 
and it would remain real were this mind to vanish from the 
universe. The real object is one which can enter into the 
knowing relation and pass out of it without being affected 
thereby in its character as real. Merely thinking of or 
cognizing such an object does not in any wise affect the 
matter of its real existence. 

The second of these doctrines, which we will call the 
idealistic conception of the real being, maintains that the 
real object cannot be independent of the idea which knows 
or seeks it. The real object, this doctrine asserts, would 
lose its realness altogether, did no mind perceive, think, 
or otherwise take notice of it. The realness of the object, 
no less than its qualities, belongs to the object only because 
the object is not independent of experience. It is worth 
while to discuss these two doctrines somewhat. 

The realist in support of his view, appeals to the experi- 
ence of being coerced in our perceptions, to our conscious- 
ness of obstacles, resistance to actions, to a persistent 
stubbomess in the grain of experience, which we cannot 
change at will; his contention is that these facts compel 
the assumption of something which is independent of our 
experience itself; that in these experiences we have to do 
with a reality, the certain mark of which is independence 
of our minds. 



16 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

To this the idealist replies, coerciveness, resistance to 
our active experiences, stubborness of experience are 
doubtless facts; they are situations which arise in the course 
of experience; but they do not for that reason point to some- 
thing which is independent of experience as such; but rather 
to other facts, other features of experience which are incom- 
patible with those parts or regions of experience in which 
this coercion, resistance, or persistence is felt. I am coerced 
in some particular experience, not because there is some- 
thing which is independent of all experience, but because 
other parts of experience, other needs, other purposes call 
for a limitation or a rejection altogether of this particular 
activity or process of experience. I meet resistance to my 
efforts, not because there is something which is independ- 
ent of all purposive activity, but because other interests 
and purposes call for a different kind or direction of activity. 
The stubborness in the grain of experience does not come 
from something which is outside and independent of experi- 
ence itself, but from the structure and habits which experi- 
ence has acquired, and in particular from the social character 
of our human experience. 

This observation leads to the second fact to which the 
realist appears in support of his doctrine, that fact is, just 
this social significance of real objects. Real objects are the 
basis of common perception; they are the standard of 
agreeing judgments, they make possible social intercom- 
munication and serve as the basis of common plans of 
action. 

All this is possible, says the realist, only if there is some- 
thing which is independent, both of every individual 
experience and of the common experience also. It is the 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 17 

object's independence which makes it intelligible that 
there can be common perceptions, common plans of action, 
and cooperation in practical activities. 

Now the idealist freely recognizes this independence of 
the merely individual or private mind in the case of our 
perceptions, assertions of fact and of our social communica- 
tions and actions; but, he maintains, that independence of 
the individual's experience is not for that reason inde- 
pendence of all experience, of experience ueberhaupt. His 
contention is, that 'the character of independence in relation 
to the individual's mind has been created by the social 
medium in which particular objects have been constituted 
and defined. Real objects exist only in or for our social 
experience; when, therefore, the individual appeals from his 
private experience to the object as real as a standard of 
judgment, he is appealing to his social fellows' experience; 
for the real is what all the world experiences. Thus does 
the object reveal its realness, not by its independence of 
out perceptions, thoughts, and purposes; but by the fact that 
it sustains a relation of dependence upon all our minds. The 
object is real for the sole reason that it is an inseparable 
part of our mental lives; because it is the fulfiUer of pur- 
poses, the satisfaction of wants the completer of fragmentary 
meanings; it is just these effective connections between the 
object and our minds, which the term real properly connotes. 

Against the realist's position the idealist makes this 
further oojection. Did the realness of objects consist in 
their independence, we could never know which of the 
multitudinous objects presented to us, are real, for, in order 
to determine that matter, it would be necessary to know 
whether the object which claims to be real; could validate 



18 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

its claim by continuing to exist and to remain unaffected 
in the absence or withdrawal of all human perceptions or 
thinking; now, obviously such a test of real being is impos- 
sible, and consequently the realist's doctrine affords us no 
test or criterion for distinguishing between real and unreal 
objects. 

The two opposed meanings of real-being which have been 
discussed will come into view again, since they underiy the 
doctrine of the nature of the real, and also the doctrine of 
knowledge. 



CHAPTER III 
THE NATURE OF THE REAL 

In this chapter we pass on to the second special problem 
for philosophical thinking. The nature of what is real or 
more accurately, the nature of ultimately real being. 

I. DUALISM 

The real beings in the world of our prephilosophical 
thinking appear to be of two readily distinguishable types, 
(1) material beings, and (2) minds. To one or the other 
of these categories we assign every object of experience. 

The differences which in our experience seem to separate 
these two kinds of being are ultimate and irreducible. 
Accordingly, the philosophical doctrine which lies closest 
to empirical, common sense thinking of the plain man, is 
dualism. 

The essence of this doctrine is, real beings for our human 
minds at least, are of two fundamentally different kinds» 
material beings and minds. Matter and mind are two terms 
under which our real world may be defined. Matter and 
mind designate, substance-beings, whose properties and 
modes of action are fundamentally unlike. Each of these 
kinds of being has a nature of its own, neither depending 
upon the other for its nature, or its power of action, or of 
being affected by action. It must be borne in mind that the 
Dualism here set forth is not absolute. The viewpoint is 
that of our human minds, not that of the Absolute Mind, 

19 



20 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

if there be such kind of Ideal Being. This dualistic relation 
obtains between beings which are admittedly finite, and it 
may be added, dependent beings. The dualist of this type 
may concede, that, as between the Absolute Being, the 
Original and All Conditioning Being, and the real beings 
which compose our world of experience, the relation is not 
of dualistic separation and independence; his proposition 
is that real beings as substances constitute our known world, 
and that these beings are of two types which are unlike in 
their essential attributes. 

With this statement of the doctrine of dualism we will 
proceed to its proof. The issue between the dualist and 
his opponents turns on the nature of what are called external 
objects; the dualist holds that these objects are non-mental, 
and hence that the physical universe consists of non-mental 
beings and their actions. The rejecter of this view of the 
external world denies this. 

The first difficulty which the dualist encounters are the 
so-called secondary qualities of material objects. He seems 
forced to admit that these qualities are subjective affections, 
not properties of non-mental things; colors, sounds, smells, 
etc., do not exist outside or independently of perceiving 
minds; they are mental states. In whatever way they 
may originate, their content or quale, is not any non-mental 
reality. Hence, some part of what the unphilosophical 
thinker takes as being non- mental turns out to be altogether 
mental in its very essence; their esse is their percipi, and if, 
as the dualist maintains, these qualities are objective in 
the sense at least that we are bound in some manner to refer 
them to objects, they tell us nothing respecting the nature 
of these objects, whether these objects are mind-like or 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 21 

non-mental beings. But the dualist may fall back upon the 
primary qualities of Descartes and Locke — extension, form, 
solidity, and motion, and maintain with Locke, that it is 
the distinction of these qualities, that they do reveal to us 
material beings; these qualities being as Descartes held 
essential to the conception of matter itself; hence these 
qualities, to use Locke's words, "Are in things whether we 
perceive them or not." And since as Locke maintained, it 
is these qualities which we perceive, it follows that in 
perception we have disclosed to us the essential nature of 
non-mental beings. 

But unfortunately, it is just this assumption of so-called 
primary or essential qualities that is challenged by the 
opponent of dualism; and this distinction between two 
sorts of qualities is a vulnerable point in the dualist's 
doctrine. For how can he show that the primary qualities — 
extension, solidity, motion, etc. — are in things any more than 
are the secondary qualities whose objective existence he has 
surrendered ? Space, resistance, motion, etc., signify certain 
perceptions, certain forms and combinations of our sensationsl 
as truly as do color, sound, odor, etc. They do not revea- 
to us the existence of non-mental objects any more than do 
the so-called secondary qualities which the dualist has 
admitted carry no such relation of material reality. 

Such appears to be the dilemma into which the dualist is 
brought by his attempt to maintain a distinction between the 
qualities of objects. The first step toward this fatal situa, 
tion is the admission that things are not as the plain man 
believes. They are not just what they seem to be; he is 
then forced to the admission that things are in no respect 
what they appear to be; and the inevitable question comes, 



22 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

Do they appear at all or what reason is there for holding 
that these are non-mental things at all ? It would seem that 
if the dualist accepts the doctrine which reduces some 
qualities of his non-mental beings to subjective states, he 
will be compelled to reduce all these qualities to the same 
terms; and when he has done so, the residuum of real being 
will be Locke's substance, which could only be defined as a 
something we know not what — substratum or support 
of — ^so-called qualities. Obviously such a conclusion is 
fatal to the dualist's doctrine. 

But, after all, is the dualist forced into such a dilemma ? 
Why need he take the first fatal step ? Why need he go the 
one mile with his adversary, who will certainly compel 
him to go the twain ? Why should he abandon the position 
of the plain man, the view of common sense; and not hold 
that colors, sounds, smells, etc., belong to things as truly as 
length, breadth, solidity, and motion; and that they reveal 
as truly the nature and mode of behavior of real beings as 
do the other qualities ? Why should not the dualist main- 
tain that sensations are not subjective states merely, but are 
cognitive acts, and hence objective in their necessary impli- 
cation ? Should he not maintain that in sensation we are 
cognitive of objective reality, and this is true in some 
degree of every sensation ? May not the dualist hold that 
the plain man is not altogether in error in his conviction that 
it is the fragrance of the orange that he smells, its sweetness 
that he tastes, its special shade of yellow color that he sees ? 
May not the dualist maintain that an objective existence of 
some sort at least is as indubitably presented in these sen- 
sations as it is in the space sensations or those of touch, 
resistance, or motion ? 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 23 

The positive proof of the dualistic theory is drawn from 
our cognitive experience, and is the following: Our. im- 
mediate experience gives knowledge of something objective 
which provokes from us various reactions or responses, such 
as sense perceptions, affective states, emotional attitudes, 
and volitional actions. It is the clear testimony of con- 
sciousness that in these reactive states we are dealing with 
a trans-subjective reality of some sort. This experience 
datum is the starting-point of all further knowledge. By 
further experiences, under the lead, and by the aid of ideas 
(whose function it is to represent and variously unite ex- 
perience), we gradually make out and define the nature, the 
mode of behavior, of objectively existing things. Now, 
our scientific knowledge is built up essentially in the same 
way as our prescientific knowledge; the main difference is, 
that in science, we employ more accurate and better regu- 
lated methods of observation; we test more carefully ideas 
by experience; we have invented instruments for finer, more 
extensive observation, and for more exact measurement. 
Above all, we have constructed those wonderful mental 
instruments, abstract, general ideas — ideal descriptions and 
formulas in which we can summarize and describe countless 
phenomena, and those which range over a boundless 
extent. Thanks to these instruments of observation and 
reasoning, science is able to penetrate far into the structure 
of the physical universe which environs us. 

But this more extended view of science does not tend to 
obliterate the distinction between mind and matter. It does 
not tend to assimilate the one type of reality to the 
other. On the contrary, the non-mind-like character 
of physical reality is more strongly impressed upon the 



24 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

imagination with every step in the progress of physical 
science. 

We will leave it to the idealist to meet this argument, 
when we shall listen to his explanation of the world of scien- 
tific knowledge. In the meantime, the reasoning of the 
dualist encounters an objection of the following sort. 
Dualism makes the fact of knowledge a miracle, to say the 
least. It is certainly incomprehensible how a knowing 
relation can exist between two such disparate beings as his 
theory postulates. The expedients which the continuators 
of Descartes' theory were compelled to use in their efforts to 
get over the ugly broad ditch, when mind and body are 
conceived to be fundamentally different in their essential 
properties, are an instructive chapter in the history of 
human speculation. 

The dualist must meet this objection with a direct chal- 
lenge of its assumption, that only beings of like natures can 
act upon each other, or come into the cognitive relations, or 
exist in a unity of reciprocal influence. "What sort of 
beings," he will say, "can be related to each other, or in 
what way they are related, only experience can inform us; 
it is not a matter to be settled by a pi'iori assertions of what 
is possible. Our human minds cannot determine how reality 
must be made, or what relations between real beings are 
possible antecedent to what experience reveals to us. 
Our experience does constrain us to recognize two sorts 
of beings, having fundamentally different attributes; and 
on the basis of the same experience we are constrained to 
assume that interaction or reciprocal dependency does 
obtain between mental and corporeal being. This influence 
cannot be rejected on the ground of its alleged incompre- 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 25 

hensibility. Our experience clearly presents this relation of 
reciprocal influence between mind and body; things go on 
as if mental states determined the occurrence of body states, 
and, conversely, body states determine mental states; there 
is as much evidence from experience, that mind and body 
in some meaning of the term act upon each other, as there 
is that your physical bodies act upon each other. To object 
that causal connection cannot exist between the mental and 
the physical is not to the point, until it is made clear exactly 
what is to be meant by causal connection. If nothing more 
is to be meant than a relation of invariable succession, there 
is as much causal connection between mental states and 
body states as there is between physical states; if the con. 
ception of causality be that of some sort of dynamic con- 
nection, involving a passing influence, there is as good evi- 
dence that this sort of connection holds between the mind 
and body as there is that it obtains between two material 
bodies." 

It is in this way that the dualist may be supposed to give 
his reasons for the faith that is in him, and defend his 
belief against objections. It is to be hoped that the stu- 
dent will take this presentation of the dualist's reasons as a 
suggestion to independent reasoning on his own part- 
Let him examine the dualist's doctrine and he may discover 
weaknesses in the reasons which support the dualistic theory; 
he may add confirmations of it by reasoning which has not 
been outlined. The student in philosophy does not need 
to go far ere he discovers that it is rash to conclude that 
the last word has already been spoken, either for or against 
any philosophical doctrine. 



26 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

II. MATERIALISM 

I will next turn to another solution of our problem of the 
nature by real being. This is the solution offered by the 
materialist. This doctrine may be best defined in the 
following statement: Fundamental or substance-being is 
material; all other forms of being have been derived from, 
and for their existence and their powers of action, are 
dependent upon material processes. It should be carefully 
noted that the materialist does not deny the existence of 
mind as mental processes nor their unlikeness to material 
processes. His doctrine is, that mind owes its existence 
to matter, and so depends upon material conditions, that 
if these conditions are removed or altered in a certain way» 
mind ceases to be, or is profoundly changed. The essen- 
tial import of this doctrine is its reduction of the mental 
life to absolute dependency upon material processes. 
Matter is original and conditioning in its relation to mind. 

So much for the statement of the doctrine. We proceed 
next to the proof of this doctrine. The theory in the first 
place recommends itself by its seeming clearness and sim- 
plicity, and especially by the apparent fact that its real 
being is actually present to us in our sense experience. 
Matter appears to be an unquestionable fact. Furthermore, 
material being seems to be so easily defined, its very nature 
lies open to view; we are so well acquainted with its prop- 
erties; these are seemingly few, altogether conceivable, 
and the laws in accordance with which material being 
behaves are simple and admit of a clear and exact 
formulation. 

A second proof is supposed to be afforded by physical 
science. If matter is taken to be the basal reality^ 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 27 

and all processes and phenomena are reduced in ultimate 
terms to material processes, it becomes possible to grasp in 
thought the unity, the uniformity and continuity which the 
world exhibits, when we thus penetrate beyond the ever- 
changing, disconnected, and endless variety of its surface 
aspects. 

The third proof of this theory is based upon the peculiar 
relation which mental processes sustain to matter. 

Within the field of our knowledge, mind nowhere appears 
save in connection with material processes; so far as we 
know it exists only in connection with a material organism 
— more specifically, a nervous system. Material processes, 
however, do exist apart from the mind. The inference to 
be drawn from this fact would seem to be, that matter is 
the original and conditioning reality, mind a dependency 
of matter; its existence is phenomenal. 

Again, if we survey the history of mind, we shall see that 
matter is first in the order of genesis; the cosmos was old 
before the advent of mind; only when material organisms 
had reached a certain stage of development did mind 
appear; and its growth from its elementary form runs 
parallel with the evolution of the nervous system apart 
from which it never appears. Once more. The facts of 
pathology force upon us the same conviction of the depend- 
ent, the phenomenal being of mind. Injuries to the brain 
or diseases in this delicate organ are Invariably followed by 
mental disorder and even by the destruction of intelligence. 

The clear deduction from these facts, the materialist 
maintains, is, that mind exists as an accompaniment of 
material facts; its destiny is bound up with that of material 
organisms — it exists and maintains its normal functions 



28 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

so long as the nervous system maintains its integrity; it 
ceases to exist when that nervous system is disintegrated 
by disease or by the death of the body. 

I have now presented the argument for materialism. Let 
us examine it. At the outset, the materialist must be 
reminded that material being is a theory, a metaphysical 
belief, not a fact of direct knowledge or a datum of experi- 
ence. Matter is hypothetical; and the materialist can 
establish its actual existence only if he can show that it 
alone affords an adequate explanation of the facts of 
experience. When, therefore, the advocate of materialism 
describes matter as that which is manifest to our senses, he 
begs the whole question; some kind of being doubtless is 
manifest to our senses, but of what sort this being is, our 
senses do not inform us. 

Coming next to the proof of this doctrine which the 
materialist derives from science, we may ask. Does science 
directly support the doctrine of materialism ? Are the 
basal concepts of physical science identical with the material 
being of the materialist ? It must not be overlooked that 
some of the best representatives of scientific opinion dis- 
tinctly repudiate the doctrine of materialism; others are 
distinctly idealist in their metaphysics; most scientists 
to-day regard the problem of the nature of ultimate being 
as a subject which transcends the limits of science; science 
is not concerned with its solution. It would seem, there- 
fore, that the materialist cannot claim the direct support 
of science; for science is as compatible with the doctrine 
of idealism as with materialism. 

If we critically examine the materialist's conception of 
matter, we shall not find it so clear, so intelligible and self 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 29 

consistent as it has been assumed to be. The search for 
the ultimate constitution of matter has as yet not reached 
its goal; the latest speculations on the basis of physical 
science lead toward a conception which is so far removed 
from the conception of the first materialists that we seem 
justified in expecting that the final outcome of this specu- 
lation will be the reduction of the materialist's matter to 
the status of a phenomenal expression of some kind of being 
which cannot be thought in terms of matter. The term 
no-matter-in-motion would seem to be the best definition 
of this final conception of matter. It would appear then, 
that the very attempt to reach a satisfactory conception of 
matter carries us to a something which is other than, and 
beyond that which we know as matter; matter becomes 
phenomenal and the basal reality must be sought elsewhere. 

But, were the materialist more successful than he is in 
his conception of material reality, is the relation he assumes 
between mind and body, namely, that mind depends upon 
material processes for its existence, the only admissible 
inference? What is the fact from which this inference is 
drawn ? The absence of any evidence of the continued 
existence of mind when the material processes with which 
its activity was connected has ceased ? Two deductions are 
possible from this fact. 1, mind has ceased to exist, 2, 
mind no longer manifests itself, in the absence of appropriate 
media of manifestation or expression. In other words, we 
may conclude from this fact, either that mind depends upon 
a material organism for its existence, or that it depends 
upon this organism for the transmission^ or expression of 
itself. 

May not the reply to the materialist be, One is not bound 



30 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

to conclude that mind has ceased to exist when it has ceased 
to express itself in the only way in which we have known 
it to manifest its existence. The absolute dependence of 
the mental on the material is not the sole legitimate con- 
clusion from the facts of experience. Unless the materialist 
can show what is the nature of tliis assumed dependency, 
his inference that it is on the side of mind only and is 
absolute, may fairly be challenged. 

This leads to the crucial point in the materialist's doctrine. 
His theory requires that the relation between mind and body 
shall be conceived as one of causation, this causation being 
on the side of the material process; the material must be 
always the cause, the mental always the effect. But now, 
how will the materialist conceive the causal relation itself ? 
Will he accept the scientific meaning of cause, which is that 
of invariable antecedence ? If he does accept this meaning 
of the causal relation, how can he establish his thesis, that 
matter is always the cause of mental states ? The only 
evidence he has to support his proposition is experience; 
now experience affords just as much evidence for the propo- 
sition that mind is in some instances the cause of body 
states as for the proposition that body processes are the 
cause of mental states. Bodily movements and internal 
changes as regularly follow upon certain mind states as do 
mind states upon certain body states. 

Or will the materialist insist that causation is more than 
invariable antecedence in a phenomenal series ? Will he 
maintain that there is a dynamic transaction of some sort, 
the expenditure of energy, when the event called effect 
occurs ? If so, then when a mental event occurs, there 
should be the disappearance of a determinable quantity 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 31 

of energy in the physical series; but this is not the case. 
The law of the conservation of energy holds true of physical 
events only, but not between the physical and the mental 
events; the latter are outside of this dynamic order, they 
are epi-phenomenal incidents to a process of which they 
form no integral parts; consequently the law of causal 
connection in this meaning of the term does not apply to 
the relation between the mental and the corporeal states. 

This conclusion which seems inevitable carries with it 
the overthrow of materialism. The materialist seems to 
be forced to admit that the only relation that to our knowl- 
edge exists between the mental states and physical processes 
is one of parallelism or mere correspondence or concomi- 
tance; and this admission is fatal to his argument. Thus 
it appears that in whatever way we may interpret the relation 
between mind and body, materialism derives no support 
from the facts of experience. The conclusion of the matter 
would seem to be, that on theoretic grounds, materialism is 
not susceptible of proof. 

But difficulties of another sort confront the theory of 
materialism. The materialist assumes that matter exists; 
it is therefore a known object or an object of thought. 
Now, the necessary presupposition of a known fact is a 
knowing mind or a knowing process. Is not then the 
materialist placed in the following dilemma? In this 
knowing of matter there must either be a knowing being 
which is distinct from material being which is the object, 
or this knowing is merely a function of matter, in other 
words matter knows itself. Now, if the materialist 
admits the real-being of mind, the knower, we have seen he 
cannot prove that this being is dependent upon matter for 



32 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

its existence. On the other hand, if the materialist says 
this knowing is but a functioning of matter, then by this 
identification of the mental and the material, he has brought 
a contradiction into his own definition of matter, which 
clearly distinguishes it from mind; if both mind and matter 
can be defined in the same terms, there are as good reasons 
for formulating material processes in terms of consciousness 
as there are for the materialist's formulation. Cannot the 
materialist fairly be challenged to define his matter in any 
other terms than those which connote mental states, or 
conscious experience in some form? What meaning can 
be given to the qualities of matter or its modes of action, 
which does not either reduce them to mental states, or 
make it necessary to presuppose mental states in order to 
make qualities and actions intelligible ? 

But to these difficulties of a theoretical character must be 
added far more serious difiiculties. These are the practical 
consequences which it is held strictly follow the acceptance 
of materialism. Man is preeminently a practical being; 
his supreme interests lie in his actions and their con- 
sequences. His feelings, his purposes, his hopes, and aspira- 
tions are really significant and valuable parts of himself. 
Now, the plain consequence of this fact is, that no philo- 
sophical theory however satisfying to merely theoretic inter- 
ests it may be, will seem rational if it leaves this major part 
of man's nature unsatisfied; still less will it be deemed rational 
if by implication it deprives these supreme interests and 
values of objective support. Man's ethical and religious 
valuations and ideals are interests of this sort. Now, if the 
real world is such as to deny these supreme capacities and 
demands all relevancy, all justification, must not the result 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 33 

be disastrous to the moral life and to religion without which 
man would hardly be man ? 

In the real world of the materialist, can there be ethical 
values, the distinctions, good, evil, right, wrong ? Can 
obligation, responsibility for conduct, judgments of regret, 
remorse for wrong-doing, approbation for right-doing — 
can these things really have a place? Must they not be 
relegated to the sphere of illusions, of groundless fancies, 
mistaken judgments, and needless fears ? 

In a world where nothing could happen but what does 
happen; in which no action could be other than it is, the 
conditions are wanting on which morality rests. Unless 
there are real alternatives presented for our choice, unless 
we stand before possibilities which remain open until our 
own act has made one of them actual, while the others are 
left as things which might have been, our action is not 
moral. Now, materialism makes truly ethical situations 
impossible; it does so by eliminating in its world scheme 
alternative possibilities. In its world everything is pre- 
determined. In such a universe there are no moral actions 
— only blind purposeless actions really take place in such a 
world. The universe of materialism can, therefore, know 
nothing of good and evil; it must be indifferent to all that 
our morality signifies, it cannot respect moral purposes and 
ideals, its processes can have no relation to moral ends. 
Thus, are the consequences of materialism absolutely 
subversive of morality; and morality is the supreme interest 
of our life. 

Now, can the materialist meet this difficulty? If he is 
to maintain his doctrine he must show that the facts of 
ethical experience are no more denied or their meaning 



34 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

destroyed than are the facts of sensation, perception, 
thinking, feehng, etc. Our moral perceptions, feelings, 
judgments, and actions are mental states distinguished 
from others by certain special characteristics, the peculiar- 
ities of these mental states or experiences are marked by the 
term of valuation, good, evil, ought, remorse, etc. These 
moral valuations, the feeling of duty, the emotions of 
remorse, these modes of our experience and conduct, the 
materialist contends remain wholly unaffected by any 
metaphysical theory whatsoever. The field of morality is 
our human life; this life in no wise depends for its meaning 
and value upon what may be the nature of the extra-human 
part of the universe. This extra-human universe in an 
ethical respect in no wise concerns us; whether it is good or 
bad in no wise determines whether our lives shall be good 
or bad. Whether there is a Power not ourselves which 
makes for righteousness, or in the other direction in no 
wise affects the meaning or validity of our moral distinctions. 
Our actions are good or bad according as they are adapted 
to promote or to affect in the opposite manner human 
welfare. Our interest in human well being is the sole 
ethical motive. 

The only consequence, says the materialist, it is legitimate 
to draw from materialism, is the relatively short duration 
of human life; the life of the individual is indeed fleeting 
and transitory; but the life of the species is of possibly 
immense duration; and morality being a social interest, 
the importance of the individual is his contribution to the 
social good; his immortality is his influence upon the lives 
of those who come after him; and to live that others shall 
be made better by our influence is certainly a high ethical 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 35 

motive; indeed what motive can be worthier? Of course 
there is no immortaUty for the race; the extinction of 
human existence though a very far off event, appears to be 
the destiny that awaits us; human history is but an episode 
in the vaster Hfe of the cosmos. MateriaUsm does not 
permit man to flatter himself that he is the heir of all the 
ages, or that his destiny is the goal of creation; but while 
he is here he can give to his life a supreme value; this 
valuation is true for him while he lives, and it is quite con- 
sistent with the fact that his being is bound up with material 
processes and relative to the life time of the universe is of 
short duration. It is not in length of days that the true 
measure of man's life is found, but in the meaning, the 
value, the greatness, of the actions, passions and ideals 
that fill his days; and which animate his life. 

Thus, will the materialist reply to the charge that his 
doctrine is destructive of morality. 

Is this defense of his doctrine sound? Some will say 
that it is specious only and when more deeply scrutinized, 
is seen to be no answer to the ethical objection to material- 
ism. Others will think differently. It will be said, a 
man leads an immoral Hfe not because he has first accepted 
the creed of materialism; he seeks rather in materialism 
a justification of his abandonment of morality. A man's 
philosophic beliefs grow out of his life. They have their 
roots in his inborn proclivities, in his acquired tendencies 
to this rather than to that way of thinking and of acting. 
It is the man who determines his philosophy, not his 
philosophy which determines his life, Fichte's words are 
true. "The sort of philosophy a man has depends upon 
the sort of man he is." 



36 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

To this may not the rejecter of materialism reply ? "Phi- 
losophy and life react upon each other; and if both are taken 
seriously they must eventually be brought into accordance. 
If the materialistic philosopher still maintains the suprem- 
acy of moral values he does so against the tendency of his 
philosophy; his ife is better than his creed. If the moral 
order is no deeper fact than the wills of his human fellows; 
and there are in his universe no higher elements than 
beings like himself, can he justify his ethical ideals, his 
reverence for moral law, the unconditional claim of duty? 
Must not the man sooner or later discover this discord 
between his moral life and his conception of the basal 
reality of things; and if he thinks to the end of the matter, 
must he not reach the conclusion, that ethics must seek 
justification in a different conception of the world, or be 
abandoned altogether ?" 

I have presented the ethical objection to the doctrine 
of materialism and the materialist's answer to this objec- 
tion. It is better I think that the student should here 
exercise the philosophic mind, which gives its judgment 
only when the evidence is all in, and which is not afraid to 
suspend judgment when it cannot clearly decide. 

I will now pass to the other part of the practical difficul- 
ties which materialism encounters, the consequences of 
materialism for religion. Whatever else religion signifies, 
one thing is of its very substance and cannot therefore be 
left out, the destruction of which is the destruction of 
religion. This basis of religion is the conviction that there 
is some Real Being of such power and disposition toward 
man, that man can entrust to this Greater Being whatever 
is most precious and most dear to him, the interests of his 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 37 

life he cannot by his own power satisfy, the fulfillment of 
his wishes, the realization of his aims, the maintenance of 
his life. Religion, to the religious man, is no merely subjec- 
tive affair, no communion between man and his better self, 
no projection of his possible self as an ideal object of wor- 
ship and loyalty, no deification of man's wants and wishes; 
it is of the essence of religious belief to claim objective 
reality for its object. The moment that the religious 
believer is convinced that this object has not the existence 
and character he has conceived it to possess, that moment 
his religion loses its vital breath. 

Now materialism deprives religion of this objective basis, 
and by so doing, takes away the justification of religious 
faith. A man can be moral in a world in which the highest 
beings are himself and his human fellows; for morality is 
essentially a relation of conduct within our human world; 
but a man cannot rationally be religious in the universe of 
the materialist; he is without God in such a world. Now, 
I think the clear thoughted materialist will frankly admit 
that materialism carries these consequences for religon. 
But he will maintain that in doing so, his doctrine does not 
destroy human values; it only shifts their locus and their 
relative emphasis. He will maintain that the transforma- 
tion of values, the shifting of human interests to other planes, 
the change of direction it involves of human actions will 
leave our human life not the less significant or the poorer 
in interests, but make it a more serious, responsible, and 
serviceable thing to live. Emancipated from superstitions, 
from mystical explanations, from useless problems, man 
can give himself to the work of making better the world he 
knows, and which he can change by his action. The 



38 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

riddles of his destiny will be dismissed; the fears of hell 
will not distress him to no ethical purpose, nor the dreams 
of heaven lure his mind away from the concerns of his 
present life. Man will concentrate his practical thinking 
upon the problems, the task of making the life of the 
individual and the common life the better for every man's 
personal contribution. Man will act with clear vision and 
more earnest purpose in the living present, when he truly 
believes "the night cometh wherein no man can work." 
Nor will his life be robbed of emotional stimulus and the 
inspiration of ideals and hopes. There is nature, inimit- 
ably vast, incomprehensibly wonderful and beautiful in its 
ever varied forms. Cosmic emotion will take the place of 
religious emotion, and its value for life may be quite as 
great. The enthusiasm for humanity will take the place 
of religious passions that have been quite as baneful as 
beneficent in man's history. The service of humanity 
under the inspiration of an ideal human society here on 
the earth, will be no poor substitute for the service of God, 
so often made the substitute for the doing of duty to our 
fellow men; and likewise it will be the substitute for the 
anticipation of another world, so often making us willing 
to let wrongs in the present world go unredressed, sorrows 
and woes unrelieved, wants and misery and crime unheeded. 
In this way will the materialist, while admitting the dis- 
tinction of what is properly religion, try to maintain that 
our human life would not lose in value, when once this 
adjustment to the new conception of the world has been 
made. 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 39 

III. IDEALISM 

We pass now to the theory of reality which is most opposed 
to the theory of materialism, idealism. 

To begin with the general doctrine. The fundamental 
proposition of the idealist is, real being in its ultimate 
form is mental; it is conscious experience in some form. 
Consequently, what we ordinarily take to be material being 
exists only as phenomenal manifestation of mental being. 

The proof of this doctrine is the following: 1. This 
conception of real being results from a consistent attempt 
to define clearly our meaning of real existence. "We per- 
ceive," say Bradley, "that to be real or even barely to exist, 
must be to fall within sentience. Internal experience 
is reality, and what is not this is not reality. Find any piece 
of existence, take up anything that anyone could possibly 
call a fact, or could in any way assert to have being, and 
then judge if it does not consist of sentient experience. 
Try to discover any sense in which you could continue to 
speak of it, when all perception and feeling have been 
removed. When the experiment is made steadily, I can 
myself conceive of nothing else than the experience." In 
the same strain Royce says, "Nothing whatever can I say 
about my world yonder that I do not express in terms of 
mind. What things are as extended, moving, colored, 
useful, majestic, etc., what they are in any aspect of their 
nature, all this must mean for me only something that I 
can express in the fashion of an idea. It is impossible 
to define a material being save in terms which presuppose 
mental being. Whatever qualities we give to matter imply 
a relation to our mental experience. Matter is unthinkable, 
undescribable except in terms which connote mental 



40 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

experience of some sort. If there is real being which 
is other than mental the nature of that being is absolutely 
undefinable, unthinkable." 

2. The same conviction concerning the nature of what is 
red results when we examine the relation of the idea to its 
object in thinking and knowing. An idea which can be true 
or not true must aim at, must intend to be true of that object 
and no other object. Now, in order to mean or intend any 
particular object, the idea and its object cannot be foreign 
to each other; the relation between them cannot be merely 
an external one; it must be internal and consequently the 
object which the idea seeks must be homogeneous with 
itself. Again, if we examine a cognitive idea, i.e., an idea 
which seeks truth, we shall find that it is essentially pur- 
posive, it is a will-act at the same time that it is cognitive; 
hence the fundamental relation of such an idea to its object 
is that of a purpose to its realization, an intent to its fulfill- 
ment. The object in its nature, therefore, cannot be other 
than the idea; it can only be rightly defined as the more 
complete and determinate expression or embodiment of the 
idea itself. In thinking and knowing our ideas but seek 
their own, not something which is alien to their nature. If 
then our ideas are to be true, and we are to possess knowl- 
edge, their objects must be of the stuff ideas are made of; 
the alternative is either the mindlike nature of the real 
world, or we possess no knowledge of that world; in other 
words the alternative is either idealism or the unknowable. 
Having stated the general doctrine of idealism and the 
proof of it, I will next proceed to a somewhat detailed 
exposition of two typical forms in which this doctrine is 
held. The first is the famous doctrine of Bishop Berkeley. 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 41 

Berkeley's idealism is of the simpler type and is set forth 
in the two writings, Principles of the Understanding and 
the Dialogue between Hylas and Philonous. The substance 
of this idealism is Berkeley's explanation of the external 
world. Physical reality is the main problem for idealism 
just as mind is the crucial problem for materialism. 

I shall therefore present an idealistic explanation of nature 
or physical reality which follows closely the lines of Berkeley. 

Nature presents two distinct classes of facts: (1) indi- 
vidual objects which exist in space, are external to ourselves 
and to each other, which we believe exist when no mind 
perceives them, and finally which are relatively permanent 
and which seem to act in various ways upon each other. 
(2) Nature as our science conceives it is a system of causally 
connected phenomena; these phenomena in their ensemble, 
take place in accordance with uniform and universal laws. 
The order of nature appears to be unchanging; and every 
change within nature absolutely predictable, given as known 
its antecedent conditions. 

These are the two classes of facts which any theory of 
reality must explain. Now, what explanation does the 
idealism of Berkeley give of these facts of nature ? 

To begin with material objects and our perception of 
them. Let me suppose I am now perceiving an object, say 
a flower. Here are two questions: (1) Just what is it I 
perceive in my perceiving this flower ? (2) In what consists 
this perception of mine ? The Berkeley an idealist answers 
the first question after this manner; "The flower which you 
perceive is not something which exists apart from and inde- 
pendent of your experience or the experience of some other 
mind. If you will define this object by stating each one of 



42 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

its so-called qualities, you will find your definition is simply 
a description of your own particular experiences, sensations, 
ideas, etc. Take the color of the flower, let it be blue; what 
do you know of this blueness of the flower, but just this 
definite sensation experience which you have just at this 
time ? Take the form of the flower; what is your knowledge 
of that, or rather what is that form as known, but a special 
mode of your experiences, an order of your sense impres- 
sions? The odor of the flower, can you find anything in 
that which is not another special sensation? To sum up, 
can you find in this flower as perceived by you anything 
which is not definable in terms of sensation, or idea, or 
some other mode of your experience, actual or possible? 
Of course these various sensations are each definite in 
quality, in intensity, and they coexist in a definite combi- 
nation or complex, so that you can describe your present 
perceptual experience by the statement : I have here and now 
this particular complex of sensations, ideas, etc. Now, is 
it not a true statement of the fact, to say that this particular 
piece of the external world named flower, proves to be 
nothing other than the stuff ideas are made of; a wholly 
mental thing, having no extra-mental existence whatever ? It 
exists when it is perceived and as it is perceived; indeed, its 
esse is percipi." But, suppose I reply, "This flower must be 
something other than a mere complex of sensation; for you 
also and others can see this same flower at the same time 
that I am perceiving it; and if I go from this place, when I 
come back I perceive again this same flower in a perception 
that is numerically distinct from the first perception. This 
flower did not begin to exist when I began to perceive it; 
nor would it cease to exist did I never perceive it again. 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 43 

Therefore, this flower must be something which can exist 
independently of my perception and of the perception of 
any other human mind at least; and consequently it cannot 
be truly said of this flower, its esse is percipi." To this our 
Berkeleyan will answer, "You are right in your contention 
that there is something more involved in the perceiving of 
this flower, than just this fact of your having this par- 
ticular sensation-idea-complex here and now. There is 
other reality than the flower-reality; but this other reality 
is not some part of the flower, some substance or flower in 
itself, which you do not perceive. You do perceive all the 
flower object there is to be perceived; this other reality is 
that we conceive or suppose in order to explain your present 
experience, why you have just this sort of experience at this 
particular time. This other reality also explains your 
belief that other minds could have the same experience were 
they present, and that this flower exists when you do not 
perceive it, and your belief that its existence is not dependent 
on any mind's perception of it. Now, the Berkeleyan 
continues, "that other reality I call God; for the main propo- 
sition of my idealism is, that only God and finite minds 
exist as real beings. Accordingly, my theory supposes 
that God as the Universal World Spirit in whom we live, 
move, and have our being as percipient minds, in this 
present instance, of your perceiving this flower, so acts upon 
your mind as to cause you to have just this definite sort of 
experience, the complex of sensations, which the name flower 
connotes. We can say that, in some sense of the term, this 
flower exists for the Divine Mind; it exists there as an 
element of his experience, a meaning of some sort, which 
is embodied in your perceptual experience. Thus is this 



44 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

particular experience of yours explained. The objective 
reality of it is this special form of the Divine action upon 
your mind. We do not need to suppose a flower in itself, 
existing when not perceived, a something we know not what, 
called material substance; on the contrary, the something 
here supposed is conceived after the analogy of our own 
minds; it is a being which is thinkable, and which is endowed 
with powers of acting analogous to the powers we know 
in ourselves. You are right in your conviction that your 
own mind is not the cause of the sensations in the case of 
this flower. You are wrong in thinking that the cause 
of your experience is some unperceived essence or part- 
reality of the flower as a material substance; for so to 
interpret your experience is to suppose that something the 
nature of which is by your supposition wholly unlike your 
own mind, is, in some way, acting upon your mind. Now 
why should you assume such an unknown entity instead of a 
Being who is after the type of what we know P" 

But how will our Berkeleyan explain the fact that other 
minds perceive the same flower I perceive. Let us suppose 
that a hundred minds perceive the same flower, must there 
not exist a hundred Berkeleyan flowers at the same instant, 
and all these flowers scarcely more than numerically distinct ? 
Instead of a hundred different minds perceiving one and the 
same flower, there must be according to the Berkeleyan 
theory, a hundred flowers simultaneously created — ^formed 
in a hundred percipient minds. To this the Berkeleyan 
will reply, "This fact of acquiring perceptions on the part 
of a hundred minds is no more of a puzzle upon my theory 
than upon the theory of the independently existing object. 
According to both theories, one and the same being is the 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 45 

cause of the perceptive experiences of these hundred minds. 
The theory of duahstic reaHsm explains this fact of agreeing 
perceptions by the action of a material object upon all the 
minds; while my theory supposses the same Divine Mind 
acts in the same manner upon these separate minds." 

The Berkeleyan readily admits that his theory does not 
explain how these one hundred minds each of which must have 
his own experience distinguishable in various particulars 
from the experience of other minds, can nevertheless make 
their experiences mean the same thing, in this case the same 
flower; but he contends just as little can the other theory 
explain this fact; for the mere existence of a single flower 
does not explain the knowledge of this object by these minds. 
No, the problem of many minds having a common object 
is the problem of social consciousness; and can be explained 
only when we understand how the individual comes to have 
a social consciousness; the solution of this problem falls to 
Psychology. But suppose I object to the Berkeleyan theory, 
" When I close my eyes I no longer see the flower, when I 
close my nose I do not smell it, when I turn away from it, 
it is no longer my object; but other conditions remaning 
unchanged, I know that should I return, I shall again have 
the same perceptive experience. Now I cannot persuade 
myseK that the flower has ceased to exist in the interval of 
my going away and returning, or when I close my various 
senses. My behavior in closing, etc., turning around, going 
away and returning, seems in nowise to have affected this 
flower; these my ways of treating the flower, I must think 
are quite accidental to the flower which continues to be 
beautiful and fragrant during all my changing behaviors 
toward it. Is it not absurd to suppose this flower ceases 



46 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

to exist when I no longer perceive it? But this is what 
your theory seems to require me to do." The Berkeleyan 
idealist meets this difficulty in the following way: "Your 
belief in the continued existence of the flower when you do 
not perceive it, has its psychological origin in your repeated 
experience, that under the same conditions the same ex- 
periences come again. The time was when you believed 
that the sun no longer existed when you did not see it. 
Apart from the teaching of older people, your belief that 
objects exist when not perceived, grew out of your experience 
of having the same perception after the interruption of 
the course of your experience. The root of your belief in 
the continued existence of objects when not perceived, was, 
then, your belief that you would have, or could have the 
same perceptions again. Now, you have come to justify 
this belief in the recurrence of the same perceptions by the 
additional belief in a continuously existing object; this 
object fills the gap in your perceptions, and gives the desired 
continuity to experience. Now, in the place of your con- 
tinuously existing object — say the flower, my theory puts 
the ceaselessly acting Divine Mind or World Spirit; who, 
in accordance with his world plan, we may suppose, 
always excites in our human minds the same perceptions 
under the same conditions. My theory therefore explains 
and justifies your belief in the permanent possibility of 
your perception of the flower. Let us suppose, if you 
will, that all human minds were suddenly to vanish; this 
flower would still remain in the sense of a possible per- 
ception; it would continue to exist for the World Mind as 
an element of meaning in his World Thought." But sup- 
pose I continue, "My difficulties are by no means at an end. 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 47 

What of my various behaviors in the presence of objects, 
tke actions I perform upon them, their actions upon me 
ard other objects? This flower I perceive, I pluck it, 
tear apart its petals, scatter them upon the ground. I 
place my hand against a stone, it resists my efforts to change 
its -position; I overcome that resistance and roll it down 
the hillside; or a stone rolls against me and I feel pain. 
I put my hand into a flame, it is burned. Now, if ma- 
terial bodies are only complexes of sensations and hence 
exist only in our minds, how explain these undeniable facts 
of experience? Should not a consistent Berkeleyan put 
his hand into the fire, or run his head against a post, or dash 
his foot against a stone?" The Berkeleyan's answer is, 
"Human minds do not consist of sensations, perceptions, 
or ideas laerely; nor do these experiences occur in isolation 
from othej experiences, the contents of which are affections, 
emotions, striving, purposing,, choosing, etc. The human 
spirit is a '^eing which thinks, feels, and acts. That part 
of our total experience we call sensations, or perceptions 
does not exisiapart from other forms of experience, especially 
the affective ind active experiences of motion, striving, and 
willing; each perceptive experience is interlinked with 
various other states and activities in such wise that some 
other kinds cf experience may precede and lead to a 
perceptive expeience. Take again the perception of the 
flower; we can mppose a series of experiences of various 
sorts came befoi^ this particular flower-perception experi- 
ence, such as reaiing a book in your study, with resulting 
fatigue, or restlessness, or dissatisfaction with your present 
situation, folio wine this, a purpose to go out for a walk, 
then the walking Wperience, various motor states and 



48 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

accompanying and resulting sensations, feelings, etc., till 
the series terminate in this specifically accentuated experi- 
ence of seeing the flower. Now, the meaning of all tHs 
is. There is a certain order or context in which eich 
particular experience of any sort always occurs; this ex- 
perience is always preceded by something, always accom- 
panied by something and always followed by sometiing. 
Now, with this fact in mind, cannot you see a rea(fy ex- 
planation of the facts you have suggested ? Cannot the 
entire transaction, with the stone for instance, be de- 
scribed in terms of mental experience ? What more is this 
seeing, grasping, lifting, and rolling a stone but a definite 
series of visual, tactile, motor resistance, strain, sensation, 
experiences with accompaniments of other experiences, 
partly sensational, partly feeling, partly volitionil experi- 
ences ? To put my hand in the flame, is to hav« a definite 
series of sensations, followed by motor states, these by a 
complex of sensations — perceptive experience in which a 
very prominent component is a massive pan-sensation- 
complex." The consistent follower of Berleley will no 
more run his head against a post, or dash his foot against a 
stone than would the staunchest metaphysicil realist; and 
he will not do this, for the same reason that would prevent 
the latter from so acting; namely, the undisirable kind of 
experience which he knows would follow hs action; he has 
learned the nature of these consequences in precisely the 
same way as the realist has learned tiem, namely, by 
experience, either his own or that of otkrs communicated 
to himself. In this way does our Berleleyan explain the 
various experiences of action, and our /arious transactions 
with so-called material things. But bjdies act upon each 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 49 

other, they change each other's condition or status. Two 
biUiard balls meet and the result is a change in the direction 
of motion; a blow with a hammer breaks a stone, changes the 
shape of a piece of metal; a flame melts a piece of wax, or 
changes water into steam. How explain such phenomena, 
unless there are actual existing material bodies, capable of 
dynamic transactions ? But here again as in the other sup- 
posed cases, the anti-Berkeleyan will find he cannot describe 
facts in other terms than those in which the idealist describes 
them. He differs from the idealist solely in his interpre- 
tation of these experiences. Must he not admit that in their 
explanations, the Berkeleyan keeps closer to the actual facts 
of experience? For he supposes but one operative Being; 
and he conceives the nature of that being in terms of a 
reality he already knows, namely, conscious mind, funda- 
mentally like his own mind. The realist on the other hand 
must admit that he has no positive knowledge of non- 
mental being. And consequently, in the last analysis, his 
theory is an explanation of the known by means of the 
unknown. 

But once more, what can the Berkeleyan make of our 
human bodies and the connection between the body and the 
mind ? To be specific, how will the Berkeleyan answer the 
following questions: 1. How can I distinguish my body 
from my mind ? 2. How can I distinguish my body from 
the body of my fellow P 3. How do I know the mind of my 
human fellow .? 4. Were my mind to cease what would 
become of my body ? Our Berkeleyan idealist has a ready 
answer and it seems to him a sufficient answer to these 
questions. *'As to the body," he answers, "My body, as 
an object merely, differs in no respect from other objects; 



50 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

the sole circumstance which constitutes its peculiarity, is 
its functional significance; my body is a manifestation of my 
mind to other minds; it is a medium of intercommunication 
with the minds of my human fellows Now this function 
of manifestation and social communication is made possible 
by the circumstance, that the body of each individual is 
more intimately connected with his own mind than is any 
other object. It is owing to this intimacy of connection 
between what I call my body and my deeper, more interior 
self, that my body can be the revealer of myself to my 
human fellow, and his body be a manifestation to me. 
And it is also this more intimate connection between my 
own body and my mind, which enables me to distinguish my 
body from objects which are not bodies, and also from 
the body of my social fellow. 

"And this gives the answer to the second question. I 
am able to distinguish between my body and your body, 
because the perceptions which mean my body are more 
intimately connected with my interior life than are the per- 
ceptions which mean your body. 

"And this leads to the answer to the next question, How 
do I know your mind? This same connection between 
each one's body and his mind makes it possible for my body 
on the one side, and your body on the other side, to constitute 
a medium or sign language for communication between our 
minds; the various actions, expressive movements, speech, 
gestures, etc., are a language essentially of symbols, by means 
of which I am able to know your mind, and you to know 
my mind. This will become perfectly clear if we analyze 
the fact of social communication. In my perceptive 
experience there occur two closely resembling complexes of 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 51 

sensations, perceptions, etc.; the one of these complexes 
stands for my body, the other for the body of my neighbor; 
my own body complex has as its correlate certain ideas, 
feelings, purposes, etc.; the complex which means my 
neighbor's body is made up of elements which very closely 
resemble those which constitute my own body; I therefore 
project as it were, behind my neighbor's body, mental 
states, and experiences of the same sort as those which are 
connected with my own body; my neighbor's mind is thus 
an object which I am led to make on the basis of my experi- 
ence, and which I have so repeatedly and in so many ways 
verified, that I have come to be as certain of his mind as I am 
of my own mind." 

To the last question, "Were my mind to cease what 
would become of my body?" the idealist's answer is; 
**Your body would for the time at least, continue to exist 
as other objects exist for other minds; and did it undergo 
certain changes, that fact would indicate to these minds, 
that your mind had ceased to have connection with that 
group of perceptions which means your body." 

Such is the Berkeleyan idealist's explanation of the 
individual objects which constitute the external world or 
nature. 

We will follow him next in his solution of the second 
problem of physical reality — ^the problem of the universe as 
Science knows and conceives it. To begin with the first 
great feature of our universe, order, uniformity, and causal 
connection. Reflection leads to the conviction that this 
uniformity and causal connection are the foundation stones 
on which rest both the splendid structure of scientific 
knowledge, and our practical knowledge and control of 



52 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

nature in the service of life. Nature thus presents the 
character of unchanging law, of mechanical necessity. 
This behavior of the physical universe is in every particular 
the opposite of that which we are accustomed to associate 
with mind, and points rather to non-mental beings which 
are the basis of this non-mind-like behavior, so alien to our 
minds, so indifferent to our human interests, so baflOing to 
our efforts to find in it the evidence of a mind Uke our own. 
In meeting the objection to his doctrine which this seeming 
unmind-like character of nature presents, the Berkeleyan 
in the first place, will remind us that undeviating regularity 
and mechanical connection are not known to be absolute 
features of the world structure. All that physical science 
has verified are certain routines in the occurrence of events, 
in the phenomenal happenings of nature. And this routine 
character of our experiences represents at most but a frag- 
ment of the whole; it is a selection out of a vastly more 
extended realm in which, could it be seen in its entirety, no 
such dead uniformity and mindless mechanism would 
appear. But, again, is it not the aims of our science, the 
needs of our rational action in the world which impel us to 
seek for just this constancy of behavior, this universality 
of law in our world; and even to postulate this character 
of the world beyond the limits of what our own experience 
verifies ? Nature seems to respond to distinctive mental 
needs and to deal with us in a mind- like way; and this fact 
indicates that the sub-structure of the empirical universe 
is after all a mind-like being. The Berkeleyan idealist can 
go farther and challenge the assumption that the uniformity 
immutability, and the undeviating order of the world are 
marks of non-mental being. Mutability, irregularity, in- 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 53 

stability are the accidents of mental being, due to its jBnite 
and conditioned existence, its limited knowledge, its defects 
of will. The mind which knows all, and possesses all power 
and is perfectly good, need present no variableness, no 
shadow of turning. Even within our human world there 
are such things as unchanging ideas, stable purposes 
decisions that remain fixed, loves that are as constant as the 
stars, hates that never die, and decisions that are irrevocable. 
Now the World-Mind which this theory supposes, is too wise 
to need to alter his plans, too powerful to be successfully op- 
posed, too good to change his purposes. And this World- 
Spirit, acting in accordance with his world plan, affects our 
minds with just that measure of uniformity and undeviating 
order which we verify in these experiences we call nature. 
Uniformity of nature, causal connection, are the divinely 
ordered course of one's experience. The basal reality 
of nature is the constant will of the World-Spirit. 

There are two other features of the scientific conception 
of nature which offer more serious difficulties for Berkeleyan 
idealism: (1) The conception of cosmic beings and cosmic 
processes in time before the appearance of our human minds 
and in regions of space where they do not exist; and (2) the 
conception of evolution. Our world is a world still in the 
making; it has had a very long history, its future is possibly 
endless. It is not, however, this long time the world has 
lasted or will last; it is rather the fact of an incessant, con- 
tinuous change and continuity of process which creates the 
problem for the Berkeleyan idealist. The world process is 
one of evolution; and the long chapter of cosmic history 
which science constructs, is filled with events, with the play of 
stupendous forces, with momentous changes, with evolution 



54 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

processes, all of which were finished before the advent of 
our human consciousness; and science conceives of like 
processes of evolution now going on in regions where there 
are no human percipients. More than this, fossil remains 
of plants and animals force us to assume the existence of 
species which are now extinct, but which are the ancestors 
of existing species. The geologic record seems to make in- 
evitable the induction that organic nature at least has an 
existence which is other than mere ideas, and merely possible 
perceptions. Now, the Berkeleyan philosopher must main- 
tain that this evolving cosmos, these objects of scientific 
imagination are real in no other sense than is the flower in 
our first illustration, or the star we think of as shining millions 
of years before any human mind existed. By an imagined 
extension of our possible experience backward to the begin- 
ning and into the vast stellar regions, all that our science 
pictures would have been actual perceptions. For the 
world is as old as the world of evolution; and had we been 
there, the first stages of this ideal evolution would have been 
embodied in our concrete experience. The primeval ocean, 
the first land, the formation of the rock masses, the eleva- 
tion of the mountain chains, Pterodactyls, Ichthyosaurus, 
Megatherium, Mastodon, etc., would have existed for us 
just as the flower, the star of our present perception. For 
the world mind has the world plan complete in all its 
details. This plan includes, therefore, as possible percep- 
tions, just these objects and cosmic events which our 
science describes; the Megatherium, the Mastodon which 
the palaeontologist constructs from data of present ex- 
perience, are the objects we would perceive could we go 
back in the time order of experience to the point in the 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 55 

development of the World-mind's plan where such beings 
belong. 

In this way does the Berkeleyan idealist explain the world 
of science. 

Now, what shall be said of this theory as a whole ? It has 
been said of it, "This is a theory no one can disprove, but 
it is also a theory no one can really believe." The theory will 
always be incredible to the plain man and to the so-called 
common sense philosopher. It runs so counter to strong 
realistic prejudice. To resolve that most indubitable reality, 
matter into mere perceptions, is for these minds, to turn the 
external world into a phantasmagoria. It would be about 
as easy to persuade the realistic mind, that after all, we are 
all dreamers, and our external world is veritably the stuff 
dreams are made of, as to lead this mind to accept the 
Berkeleyan idealism. 

Another circumstance tends to make this theory incredible. 
It is the embarrassment it occasions when we try to translate 
the ordinary, the everyday sense experiences into terms of 
this idealism; and this embarrassment only increases when 
we attempt to interpret the scientific doctrine of the universe 
in terms of this theory. The geologic past, the regions 
where no percipient minds exist, the transactions between 
things which we are constrained to regard as independent 
of our minds. Let anyone try to make these facts intelli- 
gible or realizable in the Berkeleyan theory of nature, and he 
will appreciate the strength of the prejudice which our 
familiarity with scientific conceptions has fostered. 
Any theory will seem irrational if it thwarts or obstructs 
that easy and smooth flow of our ideas, that harmony with 



56 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

the obvious facts of experience, which we are wont to regard 
as the mark of rationahty. 

Still another circumstance tends to make the Berkeleyan 
idealism unacceptable. If, as this doctrine teaches, God is 
the immediate cause of every perception in every individual 
mind, he must cause at one and the same instant, contra- 
dictory perceptions; for such contradictory perceptions do 
undeniable exist, and unless a greater degree of spontaneity 
is to be attributed to our human minds, than this theory 
seems to assume, the sources of these contradictory per- 
ceptions must be God. And finally as Descartes pointed 
out, does not this theory attribute to God systematic 
deception in causing our perceptions in such a way that we 
irresistably refer them to external objects ? Only the phi- 
losopher is able and to emancipate his mind from this false 
impression; the common mind remains the victim of per- 
sistent illusion. Surely, if Berkeley's God intends to lead 
our thoughts to him, he takes a strange way to effect his 
end. 

The second type of idealism to which we will now turn, 
avoids, it is maintained, these difficulties which make the 
Berkeleyan explanation of our external world incredible. 
I will first state the explanation of nature-reality, which is 
found in Professor Royce's remarkable book, The World 
and the Individual, Volume II. 

In nature, we are not dealing with non-mental, uncon- 
scious beings, but with phenomenal signs of vast conscious 
processes, a vast realm of finite consciousness; a mental life 
wherein ideals are sought, goals won. "The finite experience 
which is the reality of inorganic nature, is one of an extremely 
august temporal span, so that what we take to be a material 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 57 

region, say a nebular, is the phenomenal sign of the presence 
at least of one fellow creature who requires perhaps a 
billion years to complete a movement of his consciousness, 
so that where we see in the signs given us only momentous 
permanence of fact, he in his inner life is facing momentarily 
significant changes." The phenomena of these minds may 
sustain the same kind of relation to these cosmic minds that 
our bodies sustain to our minds; they differ so widely from 
the bodies of our human fellows, that we cannot by means of 
them derive the mental processes they signify as we do in 
the case of the bodies of our human fellows. The nature 
minds, therefore, are non-communicative; but we cannot 
infer from that fact that they are not in significance, or 
rationality or dignity equal or even far superior to our 
human minds. 

The significant features of this idealistic theory of nature 
can be best brought out by comparing it with the Berkeleyan 
theory. The points of difference are the following: (1) 
Nature-objects in Berkeley's doctrine are perceptions in our 
minds; as objects they have subjective existence only. In 
the Roycean theory, nature objects, it is claimed, have 
objective existence as truly as do minds of our fellow men. 
(2) In the Berkeleyan world, objects of perception exist 
only when perceived; in the world of Roycean idealism, 
these cosmic objects, it is maintained, exist when no human 
mind perceives them. (3) In Berkeley's doctrine, the order 
of nature exists in the divine mind; it is but the constant 
and uniform manner in which this mind affects our minds. 
In the Roycean idealism, the order of nature has an exist- 
ence objective to our minds. (4) Material objects in 
Berkeley's theory are really illusions or hallucinations; in 



58 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

the idealism of Royce our perceptions have an objective 
basis which corresponds to them. 

This theory does seem to have decided advantages over 
the theory of Berkeley, and to give a more credible explana- 
tion of the external world. But, on more critical examina- 
tion, does it not encounter difficulties which are hardly less 
serious than these which make it so hard to accept Berkeley's 
doctrine ? For instance, what sort of an existence is to be 
attributed to such objects as the sun, planetary bodies, the 
stars, etc ? We are told that these are phenomenal signs of 
mental processes. These processes must, therefore, con- 
stitute the cosmic realities themselves. But do the objects 
of our perceptions exist anywhere save in our minds ? Are 
these objects anything more than complexes of sensations, 
ideas, etc ? In short, are they not just what objects in 
Berkeley's Idealism are ? To say they are phenomenal signs 
of something else, is only to designate their function. In 
Berkeley's scheme, objects are phenomenal signs of ideas, 
intentions, and rules of action in the Divine Mind. Indeed it 
is expressly Berkeley's teaching, that nature the visible 
universe is a vast sign language through which the world 
spirit communicates with our spirits. Now, will the 
Roycean Idealist say, "The star I perceive exists independ- 
ently of my perception and is the excitant or generator of 
that perception ?" Must he not admit that the star as 
object, is a certain definite complex of present and associated 
sensations, ideas, etc., an experience content of some sort? 
If so, then the question which next faces him is. What is 
the source, the stimulus of this experience which occurs 
just at this moment ? Must he not find it in some deeper, 
unrecognized part of what I call myself, or in that other 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 59 

finite consciousness or mental being of whose existence, the 
star is said to be the phenomenal sign ? If it is the present 
existence of that other finite consciousness which explains 
my present star-perception, must we not attribute to that 
cosmic mind the same function which Berkeley assigned to 
his one World Spirit, namely of being the cause, the exciter 
of our perceptions ? And if so, then in this scheme, do the 
objects of the external world have any actual existence 
when they are not being perceived by human minds ? And 
if this question must be answered in the negative, we must 
ask, does not this theory leave the problem of nature, its 
unity, its uniformity, its temporal development, etc., just 
where the Berkeleyan idealism leaves it? The geologic 
past, the vast realms of extra-human experience — do these 
have for our minds any different kinds of existence or meaning 
than they have in the Berkeleyan scheme which gave us 
such difficulties at these points? Of course, the Roycean 
idealist's answer can be. Since in the case of such cosmic 
objects or nebulae, suns, planets, etc., finite minds of a type 
other than our minds, are the reality itself, and these mental 
processes exist independently of our minds, what appear 
as external objects and the physical universe which our 
science constructs, being the phenomena of these minds 
have an objective existence, and therefore an existence 
when not perceived by our human minds. But does 
not this idealism admit that what we take to be material 
nature differs profoundly from these mental processes 
themselves; and that the physical object which we per- 
ceive and which science constructs give only vague hints 
and fragmentary suggestions of what is going on in other 
cosmic minds ? Now if this is so, does material nature as 



60 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

we perceive it, and as our human science conceives it have 
any other existence than as actual and possible, conceivable 
processes in our human minds? If as the theory holds, 
nature objects are phenomenal signs of mental processes, the 
existence of our human minds is as indispensable to their 
meaning and function as such phenomenal signs, as are the 
cosmic minds of which they are supposed to afford us 
indications. It would seem then, in the absence of our 
human minds, we can no more say what material nature 
is or would be, than we can say what Berkeley's external 
world is or would be in the absence of these same minds. 
May we not conclude that the difference between the 
Roycean theory of nature and the Berkeleyan theory reduces 
itself to this one circumstance, namely, in the Roycean 
Idealism, the many finite minds take the place of the one 
mind in the Berkeleyan theory ? 

Of course the idealism of Royce conceives the relation of 
the Divine as the world-mind to our finite minds in quite a 
different way from the conception we have in Berkeley's 
doctrine; and the nature of these other finite minds, their 
relation to our minds and to the one mind, is a problem 
which hardly exists in the more naive idealism of Berkeley. 
But in the matter of our external world, or material 
nature the Roycean idealist may be fairly challenged to 
show how his doctrine really escapes the difficulties and 
objections we encountered in our examination of the 
Berkeleyan idealism. 



IV. CRITICAL OR AGNOSTIC MONISM 

Both the theories we have examined assume that real 
being is either material or mental; but may it not be that the 



I 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 61 

nature of ultimate being is a problem which transcends our 
human minds ? May there not be a type of being which is 
neither what we know as mind nor as matter but (to borrow 
a term from Hoffding), the tap root of both? This is the 
standpoint of those thinkers who call themselves critical, or 
more commonly agnostic monists. The theory is, that 
ultimate being in its own nature is neither material nor 
mental, but a kind of being the nature of which we cannot 
define, but which we may believe is the basal reality of both 
matter and mind; the unity of both, the tap root from which 
spring these two forms of being we know as mind and 
matter. The proof of this theory is the following: (1) 
Both matter and mind as they exist in our experience are 
equally real; neither can be reduced to terms of the other. 
We cannot explain mind in terms of matter; we can as little 
explain matter in terms of mind. Taken in their phenom- 
enal aspects, mind and matter are as unlike as dualism 
maintains. But the intimate connection which exists 
between these forms of reality, for instance in the case of one 
human mind and body existence, makes it highly prob- 
able to suppose that this duality is deeper than phenomenal; 
consequently we are forced to the view which regards both 
what we empirically know as mind and what we know as 
matter, as the manifestations of a real being which under- 
lies both. (2) To postulate a basal reality of this sort, 
while at the same time we confess our ignorance of its 
nature, is no inconsistency as the opponents of this theory 
usually assert; for it is surely conceivable, that the nature 
of a being should remain undetermined despite the fact 
that in certain, to us inexplicable ways, it is the ground of 
our perceptive experience, and the basal reality which 



62 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

science postulates. Nor do we need to conceive this ulti- 
mate being in more definite terms. The function we assign 
to it in explaining the external world of perception calls for 
no more definite conception. To be the permanent possi- 
bility of our perceptions, to be the basis of common percep- 
tions, to make social experience possible is the function of 
this underlying real being, and thus its functional signifi- 
cance to some extent defines its nature. 



CHAPTER IV 
THE PROBLEM OF THE ONE AND THE MANY 

Our next stage in philosophical thinking will be occupied 
with a problem somewhat closely related to the one we have 
just completed; but which has to do with a different aspect 
of the real world. That feature is the concurrence in our 
world of plurality and unity, manyness and oneness. 

The world of our experience is a world of many beings, 
each showing independence and at the same time all inter- 
related, interdependent. Of this world of our experience, 
we say it is constituted of many real beings. But a descrip- 
tion of the world in terms of many beings is incomplete; 
our world is one which possesses unity; plurality does not 
adequately describe it; oneness is as indubitable a feature 
of our world as is its manyness. Now, the problem for 
philosophical thinking is, what are these two facts and 
how are they to be connected in a coherent and satisfactory 
world view ? It is the old problem of the one and the many 
which presents itself. Is the world in its ultimate constitu- 
tion a plurality of independently existing beings, or is the 
basal reality of the world a numerically one-being, and con- 
sequently the many beings of our experience are in their 
reality, in their essence, only phenomena or appearances of 
this one and only truly real being? Or, is a third view 
possible, which will preserve real being in the many and 
at the same time make the one a real being and also original 
in its relation to the many ? 

63 



64 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

In this statement of our problem we have indicated three 
distinct doctrines. Let us formulate them in more exact 
terms. 

1. The Doctrine of Monism. — This doctrine asserts that 
original fundamental being is one. The many beings in 
our world of experience absolutely depend upon this One- 
Being for their natures, their actions, their experiences. 
Regarded in their essential meaning they are the modal 
or the phenomenal appearances of the one. 

2. The Doctrine of Pluralism. — This doctrine maintains 
against monism, that it is the many beings which are real, 
each in its own right, each independent of other beings. 
These many beings are the fundamental reality of the world. 
The oneness of the world is the character of the world which 
is due to the unity of aim, the harmony of activities which 
characterize the many. 

3. The Doctrine of Pluralistic Monism. — ^This doctrine 
seeks a via media between the opposing doctrines of monism 
and pluralism. With monism, it asserts the real being of 
the One; and it conceives this being in one sense as absolute. 
With pluralism this doctrine holds that the many are also 
real; each with a unique nature and a power of action from 
itself. But each individual being owes to the One Being its 
nature and its possibilities of action. 

Let us now examine these world views somewhat critically. 

I. MONISM 

Monism appears in two quite sharply distinct forms. In 
the one form the nature of the One is left indeterminate. In 
the other type of monism, the nature of the One is definitely 
conceived. The classical representative of monism of the 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 65 

first type is Spinoza, whose famous definition will illustrate 
this type of monism. Professor Royce, I select as the best 
exponent of monism of the second type. His remarkable 
book, The World and the Individual, gives the most complete 
and luminous exposition of the doctrine of monism which 
has yet appeared. 

To begin with the monism of Spinoza. The chief points 
in this doctrine are: 

1. The One or God alone exists as Substance; other 
existences are modi of this one Substance Being. 

2. Our known-real-world consists of two forms of reality, 
mind and nature, res cogitans and res extensa. It is in 
these two forms of being that the essence or nature of 
God unfolds and realizes itself for our minds. Accordingly 
we may regard mind and nature as the two attributes of 
the One Substance; while each individual being is a mode of 
either one or the other of these two attributes; and inasmuch 
as these two attributes, mind and matter, express the nature 
of God as the one substance, each individual mind or 
material object is a mode of this one substance, God. 

3. Since each individual being is thus absolutely depen- 
dent upon the one and only Substance Being for its nature 
and whatever it does or undergoes, each individual is just 
what the One makes it. Nothing in this world of individual 
beings and their experiences could be other than it is without 
a change in the nature of the One; and this is inconceivable. 

4. God, the One Substance, being perfect in his nature, 
possessing every attribute, each one in a degree infinite 
and perfect, the world is perfectly rational and perfectly 
good. When therefore, we think we see imperfections and 
evil in the world, our judgments are false or rather irrelevant; 



66 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

they are valid only of those appearances which the world 
presents in consequence of our finite point of view. Our 
distinctions, good and evil, perfect, imperfect, etc., are not 
relevant to the real world as it exists for God. 

The most important points in Spinoza's monism are his 
conception of the One Substance God, the relation of God 
to the world, and the ethical and religious implications of 
this monism. Taking these points in the order named, we 
may properly ask. Is Spinoza's conception of the One 
which he calls Substance or God, free from ambiguity? 
There are passages in his Ethics which clearly attribute to 
this being intelligence. God is declared to be perfect in- 
tellect; God is the All Knower; nay it is the reiterated 
teaching of Spinoza that the universe is perfectly rational 
and therefore perfectly intelligible to one who should have 
an adequate idea of it. Spinoza declares that man may 
know God unto perfection; and in this knowledge of God 
is man's salvation and his blessedness; it is man's chief end 
to know God and to enjoy him forever. It would seem to 
be made clear beyond doubt that the One in Spinoza's 
monism is a spiritual being, and spiritual in the sense in 
which we know such a nature; for if man can have an 
adequate idea of God, he knows him as he is, and con- 
sequently God is as man thus conceives him. 

But unfortunately there are other parts of Spinoza's 
teaching which assert that the One is not intelligent, after our 
human type. God, we are told, does not possess intellect; 
for intellect, as we know it, is finite; and finiteness is in- 
separable from our human modes of knowing, we can only 
know in part. Not only does Spinoza deny that God has 
intellect; but he also expressly teaches that God does not 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 67 

feel or will, as we possess these functions ; God does not love, 
pity, feel anger; God does not purpose, conceive ends and 
realize them. Now when we eliminate from our conception 
of God, feeling and willing in the only forms in which they 
are intelligible to us, can there remain to that conception 
any determinate property or attribute whatever ? 

The conclusion would seem to be that in this type of 
monism, the nature of the One is wholly indeterminate; 
and if so, we ask, can the One so conceived, afford any 
explanation of the many? This brings us to the second 
point in Spinoza's monism, the empirical world. 

In the first place Spinoza's teaching leaves us in no 
uncertainty as to the kind of existence which is to be predi- 
cated of individual beings, minds and things, res cogitans — 
res extensoB. They possess only modal significance. In 
respect to essence or meaning they are of the substance of 
the One; just as the radii of a circle exist only as modi of 
the circle; being in their essence or meaning, one with the 
essence of the circle. From the point of view of sense and 
imagination, these radii are separate and individual exist- 
ences; from the point of view of the understanding, they 
are only modi of the circle, and have no separate independ- 
ent being whatever. In like manner does every individual 
mind, every individual, material being exist. It is to our 
sense perception and in our imagination only, that they 
exist as individual and independent beings ; who ever has an 
adequate idea of them, perceives that they are only modi of 
the one essence, God. And as the nature, properties, and 
laws of the circle, are made explicit in the circumference, 
the radii and the various lines drawn therein, so in the 
individual minds, and material beings which compose the 



68 THE PROBLEM OP REALITY 

empirical world, the world of the many, the meaning, the 
nature, of the One or God is supposed to be unfolded and 
defined. Clearly then, the many are in every detail of 
their being, what the One makes them to be. The One 
contains the many in such wise that knowledge of the One 
would at the same time be a knowledge of the many. Such 
being the meaning of individual being, the significance of 
the many in their relation to the One, let us see next what 
consequences for our ethical and religious conceptions of 
the world follow from Spinoza's monism. 

One of the obvious deductions would seem to be, The 
universe is absolutely determined; Spinoza's doctrine is 
thoroughgoing determinism. There is nothing contingent 
in such a world; nothing could be other than it is without 
changing the nature of the world reality. This precludes 
the possibility that any human action or human life could 
be other than it is. The belief that we could have acted 
otherwise than we did act in any situation, is an illusion, 
due to our ignorance of the causes of our actions. 

A second deduction seems equally legitimate, namely, 
the universe is static; real being is fixed in an eternal state; 
it cannot change, for that would imply its imperfection. 
Whatever meaning there may be left to our time conception, 
a process in time, is not an experience of the One. The 
real world is all that It ever will be, all that it can be. What 
significance, therefore, can change, growth, development 
have for the One, if indeed we can ascribe consciousness to 
this being? Shall we say the One comprehends in some 
ineffable way these characters of reality as we know it, and 
transcends them ? Or shall we say these conceptions have 
no relevancy for that Being; they are significant and valid 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 69 

only in our finite realm of being ? But how can our thinking 
then be defined as a mode of the infinite intellect, which is 
Spinoza's teaching ? 

A third deduction from this theory is, The universe of the 
One is perfect, and without moral defect. But now, our 
human world is full of the things and experiences we call 
imperfections and evils, pains, disappointments, defects, 
sorrows, and sins. Are these judgments true or are they 
false ? Are imperfections, faults, sufferings, sin, etc., facts in 
the real world, or are they our false beliefs about that world ? 
But again, how can our judgments be false, if our judging 
minds are modi of the Being whom Spinoza declares is 
Absolute Intellect ? Thus it would seem the imperfection, 
error, and evil present insoluble problems to the monistic 
thinker of this type. For if imperfection and evil are facts 
in the real world, then how can that real world be perfect 
and unchangeable as Spinoza teaches ? And if imperfection 
and evil are not facts in the real world, how explain the 
error in our human judgments ? Again, must we not greatly 
change our religious conception and the significance of 
religion for our lives were we to accept the monism of 
Spinoza ? We shall not seek this God of Spinoza for com- 
fort in our sorrows ; for our sorrows do not exist for him. We 
shall not pray for help in time of weakness, perplexity, or 
peril, for nothing can be changed in the world that is already 
finished and perfect. We shall raise no hymns of praise 
for loving kindness and tender mercies; for the God of 
Spinoza does not so think of us. Love, compassion, sym- 
pathy are not elements in his nature, they are not experiences 
in his life. In none of these ways are we related to God in 
religious experience. Not in these experiences does the 



70 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

follower of Spinoza find the reality and the power of religion. 

Religion, as Spinoza conceives it, is just the knowledge 
of the truth that the world-whole of which we are a part is 
perfect reason and free from imperfection and evil. And 
secondly, the liberty and blessedness which the knowledge 
of this truth brings ; freedom from error, emancipation from 
the bondage of finiteness of view and action, blessedness is 
the vision of God, armor intellectus dei. 

There is, furthermore, a practical consequence which is 
serious for the thinker who accepts Spinoza's monistic solu- 
tion of the world problem. If moral evil does not exist for 
God, why should we take it seriously; why regret wrong 
doing, why repent and strive for amendment, why strive 
to overcome evil in others, and lead them to repentance and 
moral reformation? Is not this our salvation from sin, to 
attain to the knowledge that it does not exist in God's world ? 
It is but the incident of our finite point of view. We are 
saved from sin by rising above our finiteness of vision; we 
overcome evil by overcoming the error in thinking that evil 
really exists. We should not repent of wrong doing, but 
of the ignorance in which we believed that there is such a 
fact as wrong doing. We amend not our bad wills, our 
sinful dispositions; we correct rather our erring thought. 

The monism of Spinoza unquestionably involves a pro- 
found alteration in the conception of religion which believers 
for the most part hold; but, that this effect upon our reli- 
gious conception of the world is an altogether undesirable 
one can hardly be maintained. But further discussion 
of this point will appropriately come in the third division 
of our study. 

We now turn to the other type of monism, the monism of 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 71 

Royce. In comparison with the doctrine of Spinoza, per- 
haps the most important difference which the monism of 
Royce presents, is the attempt which he makes to put in the 
place of the indeterminate Being of Spinoza, a definitely 
conceived spiritual Being, nay a Person; and also to give to 
the many a better sort of existence than the merely modi 
character which they have in Spinoza's doctrine. 

In this type of monism, the One is conceived in terms of a 
spiritual life. It is no neutral or vaguely defined Substance, 
but a self-conscious Being, a Personality, nay more, this 
Being who is called God, is declared to be the only complete. 
Individual. He is an omniscient being, the All-thinker, All- 
knower, a Being possessing all logically possible knowledge, 
insight, and wisdom. Nor is this being to be thought as 
transcending thought, feeling, and will, as they are in us; 
he has these same attributes but in absolute perfection. It 
is we who in our finite, particular natures think imperfectly, 
and therefore err in thinking, feel inadequately or improp- 
erly, and will incompletely and miss the goal. The Absolute 
is the Complete, the unerring thinker; his feeling is in perfect 
accord with his insight, and he wills and always attains the 
goal of his willing. 

So much for the One, the Absolute Individual. 

But what of the manyp What sort of existence, what 
degree of reality falls to the finite individual being in this 
monistic world view.? Here is the critical point with all 
monistic systems. We saw it was the crux of Spinoza's 
monism. Does the more spiritual, and the more thoroughly 
elaborated monism of Royce successfully meet this crucial 
problem of the many and their relation to the One ? 

Let us see in the first place, just how the many are related 



72 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

to the One. In one series of passages this relation is set 
forth as one of substantial identity. Of our human selves 
we read, "We are the divine as it expresses itseK here and 
now." No item of what we are is other than an occurrence 
within the whole of the divine existence. Our experience 
is a part of the life through which God wins his own. This 
is true of any experience, for instance sorrow. "I sorrow, 
but the sorrow is not only mine, this same sorrow just as it is 
for me is God's sorrow." But how about the experience of 
error in thought and going wrong in action ? Must we not 
say of error and sin, what is said of sorrow, and include these 
experiences also in the Absolute life? So it would seem; 
for Royce says, "The act which the individual wills, is at 
the same time, what God wills. When I consciously and 
uniquely will, it is I, who just here am God's will." To the 
finite it is said, " You are at once an expression of the divine 
will and by that very fact an expression, here and now in your 
life, of your own will." 

The essential identity of the many finite individuals with 
the One could hardly be more explicitly asserted. Spinoza 
could set forth his doctrine in the same language. 

But, in another series of passages we find the relation 
between the One and the many is one of significant differ- 
ence. In this part of his doctrine. Professor Royce seeks to 
preserve to the finite beings, especially to our human selves^ 
true being, uniqueness and freedom. God's thoughts are 
not our thoughts; there is something in our thoughts which 
is all our own. The One thinks, has ideas; but his ideas 
are richer than our fragments of thought. The thoughts of 
God have no limit to their fulfillment, their realization, their 
truth. 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 73 

The experience of the Absolute has in it what our ex- 
perience lacks; what did it have, would answer our questions, 
solve our doubts. Let for instance, our experience be one 
of pain; in the Absolute this experience is not one of pain 
merely, but of pain passing into peace. Let our experience 
be one of struggle issuing in defeat; his experience is that of 
winning triumph through partial defeat. In such passages 
as the following, individuality, freedom, activity are clearly 
asserted of the many notwithstanding the fact that they are 
contained within the One. "This oneness of the Absolute 
Consciousness is nothing that merely absorbs you in such 
wise that you vanish from among the facts of the world." 
"You remain from the Absolute point of view precisely 
what you now know yourself to be." "You are in God but 
you are not lost in God." "You are for the divine all that 
you know yourself to be at this instant." Thus is it main- 
tained that the many, through the One which contains them, 
preserve their individuality, uniqueness, their self activity 
and freedom. They are finite but not as merely finite 
are they in the One, they are there in such wise that their 
finiteness is completed in God. They may suffer pain 
and sorrow, but these experiences are not as such, the ex- 
periences of the Absolute; his experience is rather that of 
peace though pain, comfort though sorrow. The finite err 
in thought, and sin in action; but their errors, their sins are 
not identical with the Absolute experience, this is the ex- 
perience of error rectified by truth, sin overcome, rejected 
and by that rejection made a moment in perfect goodness. 
But, after all that the Roycean monism has done to save 
the many from the fate which falls to them in Spinoza's 
thorough going monism, does this attempt succeed ? I do 



74 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

not wish to prejudge the matter or to forestall the student's 
own careful reading of all that Professor Royce has so 
brilliantly and so suggestively written; but I think it is left 
a fairly open question, whether or not this doctrine leaves 
to the many any more than a modal existence; and conse- 
quently in this respect his doctrine is in fundamental accord 
with the doctrine of Spinoza. It is not enough to be able 
to say of the many, that they are not confounded with one 
another; each is unique, individual; or that they "do not slip 
as the dew drops into a sort of shining sea." The distinctive- 
ness of each finite being from other like beings, their distinc- 
tiveness witlun the One All-Containing Being does not 
secure to them more than what is true of Spinoza's finite 
individuals. These individual minds, our human selves, 
may be after all in their essence, only determinations, 
individualizations of the One only Actual Individual. Our 
human selves may not be "lost in God," but they can be 
nevertheless only "thoughts within his thought," "wills 
within his will," partial embodiments, and expressions of 
the one purpose, the one meaning, the one nature." 

This truly great doctrine of Royce will meet us again 
when we take up the final problem of philosophy and we may 
then be able to answer the question we must for the present 
leave open. 

II. PLURALISM 

The essential features of the pluralistic world view to 
which we now come, can best be brought out by a state- 
ment of the chief points of difference between it and the 
monistic conception of the world. These differences are 
the following: (1) Monism maintains that ultimate being 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 75 

is numerically one; Pluralism asserts that it is many, or 
rather, that there is a plurality of ultimately real beings. 
(2) Monism teaches that the many individual beings which 
constitute our experience-world are in their natures, states 
or individuations of the nature of the One Being which is 
their source and their explanation. Pluralism asserts that 
these many beings are each ultimate underived and, un- 
conditioned by any other being. (3) The real world of 
the monist possesses complete unity, perfect order, and 
unbroken harmony; the absence of unity, the seeming un- 
relatedness and disharmony in our world of experience is 
either an illusion, an erroneous judgment of our finite minds, 
or if real, these are the forms or the stages in which the Abso- 
lute Being realizes its own nature, and wins its own per- 
fectness. The pluralist, on the contrary, maintains that 
partial unity, disunity, partial order and the absence of order, 
harmony and disharmony are facts in the real world. Com- 
plete unity, order, and harmony are an ideal, not an already 
achieved state of the world. The pluralist says, It is 
because the many beings are finite and imperfect that the 
world as we know it, is a world of mingled unity and dis- 
unity, of order and chaos, coherency and incoherency. 
Such unity, coherence, and harmony as obtain in our world, 
are the creation of the many, acting toward a better, more 
satisfying state of themselves. (4) The real world of the 
monist is perfect and good; what we judge to be imperfec- 
tion and evil do not exist in it, or if in any degree they belong 
to it, it is only as passing moments in the experience of the 
One Being. In the universe of the pluralist imperfection 
and evil are what they appear to be. In his world there are 
imperfect beings who are destined, it may be to remain so. 



76 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

and bad beings who oppose the good, and they may always 
remain evil. A world without imperfection and evil is a 
dream, an ideal toward which the good are strugghng, and 
with the hope of ever nearer approximation. (5) The 
monistic world view is deterministic. In a world with an 
Absolute, nothing could be other than it is. The individual 
can only express the nature of the One; and, will as he may, 
he can only do the will of the Absolute. 

In the pluralist's universe, there are genuine alternatives 
and open possibilities, things which need not be actual, 
things which need not to have been. 

Having set forth the chief differences between the monistic 
and the pluralistic world view, I will now discuss their 
relative advantages and disadvantages as rational concep- 
tions of the world. 

And in the first place, monism undeniably has the ad- 
vantage of simplicity and unity. It rescues the world of 
experience from its seeming chaotic, discrepant, and multi- 
verse character. It unifies it securely and completely, and 
thereby satisfies a deep need of our rational nature. Plural- 
ism, on the other hand, stops far short of this goal of an 
intellectually satisfying world explanation. It seems to 
leave us with a multiverse in which our intelhgence is 
baffled and put to confusion. Pluralism is not merely a 
confession of the failure of our minds to gain a point of view 
from which our world if rightly seen, is a unity, a system; 
but this doctrine logically carries the denial that there is 
such a point of view, and such a comprehensive knowledge. 
The monistic thinker confesses that his finite thought does 
not comprehend the scheme of things, or see its unity, its 
wisdom, its goodness; but he comforts himself with the 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 77 

assurance that there is One, who, knowing all, knows they 
are a one world; and he cherishes the hope that our finite 
minds will come even nearer the goal of the perfect knowl- 
edge. For the pluralist there can be no such comforting 
hope. A world that is not one cannot be known as such. 
And our knowledge is destined to remain a fragment. A 
world unity without a One Being in whom that unity is 
grounded and actualized is only an ever flying goal that 
tantalizes our aspiring minds. 

The second advantage that is claimed for monism is, 
that it offers a guaranteed future of the world; while plural- 
ism can give us only an uncertain future. Only if our 
world is grounded in a One Mind, a One Law, and moves 
to One Event, can we have rational assurance that out of our 
present multiversity of incoherent, discordant, and blindly 
struggling elements, there will come that final order, unity 
and harmony which our reason craves. Pluralism affords 
no such assurance. That the now warring many will 
finally become one is at best a hope, a goal toward which the 
best are striving; but with no guarantee of ultimate achieve- 
ment. For multiversity is possibly the last state of the world; 
and disconnections and discord may prove as permanent as 
coherence, unity, and concord. 

A third advantage which the monist claims for his theory, 
is the satisfaction it gives to the ethical demand that the 
world prove itself completely good. If the One is good, 
then good must be the final goal of ill; the moral struggle 
must end in the eternal triumph of the good. We can 
therefore fight the good %ht of faith in the certainty of 
ultimate victory. 

Monism in this way offers the only satisfying solution of 



78 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

the greatest enigma of our human life, the existence of evil. 
On the contrary, pluraUsm leaves us with the issue in doubt; 
in the battle between the forces of good and the forces of 
evil. Pluralism cannot silence the morally paralysing doubt, 
that after all the good fight may have been fought in vain; 
for if evil belongs to reality as essentially as goodness, what 
can assure us that it will not always belong to it? Nay, 
that it will not prove to be the stronger, and win the day at 
last ? Is not the very heart of the moral hero taken out of 
him, if he must reckon with this possibility ? We can endure 
moral evil in the universe if we can rationally believe it is 
destined to serve the purpose of goodness, and leave us with a 
better world for its temporary existence; but to make an eter- 
nal dualism of moral principles, the final act in the world's 
drama, with the fate of goodness uncertain, that is to leave 
unsatisfied the most imperative demand of our nature. 
Pluralism does this; and it labors therefore, under a most 
serious disadvantage, in that it robs us of the strongest 
stimulus to our moral endeavors. 

These are the advantages which are urged in support of the 
monistic world view. 

We will now see what answer the pluralist makes to these 
claims. 

1. To the monist's statement that his world view alone 
satisfies the rational demand for unity and complete intelli- 
gibility in our world, the pluralist replies. The monist 
saves the unity of the world at the cost of the real being of 
the many. It diminishes, if it does not wholly destroy the 
concrete reality of the many in the interest of abstract One- 
ness. For the only way in which the monist can make the 
many one, is to reduce them to modes or states of his One — 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 79 

all and only Truly Real Being. Nay, more than this, 
monism empties the very conception of unity of its true 
meaning; unitj^ properly implies an actual variety of real 
differences in the many; and if this variety and difference 
are to be anything more than empty names, the real existence 
of the many must be presupposed. It is only true interac- 
tion between the many real beings which can establish 
unity as a concrete thing. Unless this unity is the achieve- 
ment of the many themselves, the product of their harmon- 
ious and unified actions, it is an empty abstraction. Now, 
in the monist's scheme, the many achieve no unity, they in 
fact do nothing. The unitary nature of the One Being is 
the source, the goal of whatever processes there are by which 
the unity of the world is maintained. What appears to be 
the activity of the many and the unity achieved by them, is 
only the phenomenal expression of the ever unified being of 
the One. 

2. To the claim that monism gives a sure outcome of 
the world's history, the pluralist replies : Unless we already 
know what is the character and what the purpose of the One 
are, we are not certain of any outcome whatever. Suppose, 
on the basis of a monistic belief, we could expect final unity 
and harmony, the banishment of all disunity and discord — 
might not that prove to be a unity in which the whole rich 
content of individual experiences, the conscious self hood, 
the interests of personal lives, should pass away, be absorbed 
and transmuted into some such unity as the Absolute of 
Bradley possesses, or the One Substance of Spinoza enjoys. 
Would anyone think such a unity desirable ? 

3. To the claim of monism to secure to us a truly moral 
universe, the pluralist concedes that his doctrine does leave 



80 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

the future in an ethical aspect, undetermined. There is no 
absolute assurance given in advance, that the good will be 
completely triumphant, that some evil will not be eternal, 
that dualism of moral principles will not be the last, as it was 
the first act in the moral drama of the universe. He will 
contend, however, that his theory has at least this merit, it 
makes the struggle between good and evil a real fight, not a 
sham battle. But in the monist*s scheme, the forces which 
seem to be arrayed against each other are not real enemies, a 
real battle is not on at all. For, is not the real world already 
perfect ? Is not the battle already fought ? the victory already 
won ? And consequently what seems to us in this realm of our 
finite human lives, the struggle between good and evil is a 
mere appearance, the illusion of ourfinite vision. But, waiv- 
ing this, the pluralist may further say that if in some way we 
can think of our world as already complete, and yet still in 
the making, and that there can be absolute certainty of the 
ultimate triumph of the good. With such a guaranteed 
future, how serious, how earnest would be the fight with 
evil, when we know in advance that victory will come to the 
side of the good ? What would become of courage, of 
loyalty, of self-sacrifice, if victory of the good is a foregone 
conclusion ? It is not necessary to our best moral endeavors, 
that we should now be certain that good is to be the final 
goal of ill; it is quite enough that we have good hope, the 
world can be made better; that each of the many can really 
contribute to the world's progress toward perfect goodness. 
And this leads to a strong point in support of the pluralist'? 
doctrine, namely the moral responsibility which falls to ead 
individual for the well being of all and the good outcome w< 
desire for our world. No such responsibility can rest upoi 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 81 

the individuals in the monist's world scheme; for the One, 
the Absolute, does not need his help. He is sufficient unto 
himself. It is a vain exhortation to bid the many to "come 
up to the help of the Lord against the mighty." This Lord 
does not need helping. Rather let the counsel be, "stand 
still and see the salvation of the Lord." But in the world 
of the pluralist, the individual can truly say, " Since the world 
is what the many make it, I can really do something to make 
the world other than it is, and therefore it is true that the 
Lord has need of me, in order to win the day." The final 
victory of God will not come until every individual fighter 
for the good has fought the good fight himself." 

Finally, the pluralist maintains against the monist, that 
pluralism alone makes a genuine ethical and religious 
experience possible; that monism on the contrary, involves 
the gravest consequences for the moral and religious life. 
The pluralist reasons after this manner, If monism is true, 
what becomes of our moral judgments, the judgments of 
regret, of responsibility, and punishment; what significance 
or relevancy remain to religious faith, humility, trust, 
prayer, which is the vital breath of religion ? If prayer is a 
real transaction, it is a dialogue, and he who prays, must be 
able to say / and thou. This duality of existence, this 
degree of separateness in Beings, is the very foundation 
stone of religion. Unless our wills are really ours, we 
Cannot "make them thine." Unless there is a true other- 
ness in the relation of God to man, the religious attitude 
is impossible. Now, continues the pluralist, monism if 
made self consistent destroys the foundation of both 
morality and religion. Take, for instance, moral evil. 
The wrong doer if monism is accepted, is, in his essential 



82 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

nature, a partial function of the One Individual Being. 
That being the case, we are faced by this alternative, either 
we must say the evil deed is not a fact for the One, the 
Standard Judgment, or, we must say this evil deed is a 
moment, a stage in the ethical experience of the One; some- 
thing which is necessary to his becoming absolutely good. 
But if such be the meaning of the deed we call evil, we have 
taken from sin its strength, and from regret, remorse, and 
penitence, their entire meaning; for we cannot say of this 
deed it is something which ought not to be; for does it not 
have a place in the very life of goodness, nay is it not needed 
to make that life good? What therefore is an essential 
element or factor in the realization of perfect goodness, 
cannot be a thing which ought not to be. In the world of 
consistent monism either there is nothing of which we can 
say it ought not to be, and consequently it is a world of 
sinless perfection, or that world is not a perfectly good world; 
and the evil in that world is in the One, Only, All Real 
being. There seems to be no escape from this alternative. 

Such is the moral dilemma of monism. It must be ad- 
mitted that the monist confronts a serious difficulty, if he is 
not in the dilemma which the pluralist sets before him. 
How can he meet this difficulty or escape this dilemma ? 
I will suggest that he can do so by one of two possible 
ways. 

1. He may maintain that in the matter of the evil deed, 
the complete fact is not merely the bad deed, or the evil 
intent, but this bad deed, condemned, rejected, the evil 
intent thwarted, the evil will resisted, overcome, and made 
thus an element in the realization of the good will. 
The wrong doer, the sinner, is indeed in God, but he is there 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 83 

to be rejected, scorned and triumphed over. Wrong doing, 
sin as a separable isolated fact is not an experience of the 
All-One, it is our finite, partial, fragmentary experience, 
and so just because our experience is finite and fragmentary. 
The ethical experience of the Absolute, on the other hand, 
is wrong-doing condemned and thereby made a part of 
goodness; sin, annulled, atoned, and so passing into the 
larger harmony of perfect goodness. Just as in the matter 
of pain, sorrow, struggle, these experiences have a sig- 
nificance for the All-One, the All-Containing-Being, but 
not just the significance they have for us. In God, the 
experience is not just pain, as it is so often with us; but pain 
passing into peace. In God there is not just sorrow as it is 
suffered by us, but sorrow issuing in comfort, through the 
knowledge of the meaning of the sorrow. We struggle and 
taste the bitterness of defeat; the Absolute has the experience 
not of the struggle separated from victory, but of the struggle 
which wins victory through seeming defeat. In like manner 
are we to interpret the fact of moral evil. It is a part of 
God's life, but not as an isolated fragment, detached from 
the whole, but as a part of the whole, to be judged only in its 
relation to the life of completed goodness. 

2. If, however, the monist does not elect to defend his 
doctrine on this line, he must take a bolder tack, and main- 
tain that neither ethical nor religious experience is affected 
by any conception we may frame of ultimate Being, pro- 
vided that being is given a spiritual nature. Truth and 
knowledge remain truth and knowledge, and our interest 
in them remains the same, whether the being who knows and 
possesses truth, is One or Many. Just so moral and religious 
experience have the same significance and value, whether the 



84 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

subjects or centers of this experience are metaphysically 
thought as One or Many. Good and evil, moral ideals and 
the struggle to attain them, beauty and the joy it gives, 
reverence and the exaltation it gives, trust and calmness, 
hope and its fruition; in a word, all that fills this life of ours 
with its most significant and priceless moments, is no more 
destroyed and rendered meaningless by a monistic concep- 
tion of ultimate reality than by the conception of pluralism. 
Suffering is not less real when we view it as an experience 
of God, nay it is no longer a mere brute fact, opaque, and 
without meaning when it is seen to be an indispensable 
element in the Absolute's perfect peace. Nor is sin less real 
when it means the bad will which God rejects and conquers, 
and by so doing maintains his goodness, nay becomes good ? 
The interest of morality and religion are not involved in 
this issue between monism and pluralism. 

We have set forth the two opposed world views with their 
relative advantages and disadvantages. What shall be our 
critical judgment upon them ? I will offer the following. 

1. If the test of rationality in a belief be its adequacy in 
satisfying both theoretic needs and practical demands, 
neither monism nor pluralism satisfies the ideal of ration- 
ality. Monism, indeed, saves the unity of the world but it 
does so at too great a cost. Its One All Real Being swallows 
up the many beings; it sacrifices to its ideal of unity, the 
variety, the fulness, and the wealth of concrete experience. 
Pluralism, on the other hand, while it saves the concrete re- 
ality of the many, does so at the cost of the unity of the 
world. Without a unifying principle which is other than 
the unification of the many, there is no rational assurance 
that the many will ever make a universe. 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 85 

2. Monism, by the questionable reality it gives to our 
human selves, leaves it an open question whether our moral 
life with its seeming warfare of good against evil is after all 
what it seems to be. The One is so completely All in All, 
that the many only reflect and serve as manifestation points 
for the activity, the sole agency of the One. The many do 
not act for themselves and of themselves; they have not 
power of their own to will the good or the evil. Monism 
truly offers us a guaranteed future, the absolute supremacy 
of the good, its final victory; but it tends to do so by taking 
away that possibility of a different outcome, without which 
the moral struggle is robbed of its significance and interest 
To give us certainty of the final result is to take away faith 
and the heart is taken out of our own moral welfare when it is 
no longer that good fight of faith. But, on the other hand, 
pluralism fails to satisfy our ethical demand, because it 
leaves the future too insecure. It leaves the bad possibili- 
ties too much in the final view. It fails to justify our hope 
of the final victory of the good. 

III. MONISTIC PLURALISM— PLURALISTIC MONISM 

Monism and pluralism have been discussed as alternative 
solutions of the problem of Being; but the question arises. 
Do these two doctrines exhaust the possible alternatives ? 
In popular thinking, neither of these world views is held; 
especially is this true of religious believers. These for the 
most part believe in the One as the supreme, indeed Abso- 
lute Being; but they believe no less firmly in the substance- 
being of the many; the formula expressing their meta- 
physical belief, is the One and the Many, each equally real. 
There are philosophical thinkers, some of them of very high 



86 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

repute, who have attempted to maintain a world view which 
is intermediate between monism and plurahsm, a via media 
between what these thinkers regard as two extreme and 
equally untenable doctrines. We may call this intermediate 
type of doctrine monistic-pluralism or pluralistic-monism, 
according as the emphasis falls upon the One or upon the 
many. As a representative of this world view, I will present 
the Monodology of Leibniz, a man who deserves to rank 
among the world's greatest thinkers. 

I will briefly set forth the main points in Leibniz's doctrine 
of the One and the many; and his doctrine of the Many — 
the pluralistic side of his world view. The foundation of 
our experience world, the world of our sense perception and 
the world of empirical science, are beings which are not 
presented in sense experience, nor are they identical with 
the fundamental concepts which science employs; they are 
metaphysical beings. The monads are infinite in number, 
and psychical not material in nature. Each elementary 
being is a unity— not a mere unit; for diversity, difference, 
and manifoldness belong to each of these beings; each is a 
many in one, a one in many. Each of these beings is a sub- 
stance; for a substance is that which acts, is acted upon and 
through its actions stands in relation to other beings. Each 
elementary being acts from itself, or rather develops its own 
activities and states; each being is individual, is unique and 
has a life and a significance which are its own. The many 
beings act upon each other only in the sense, that whatever 
activities and changes occur in any one of these beings, are 
occasions or reasons for corresponding states or activities in 
other individual beings. There is no passing influence from 
one of these beings to another. In respect to their actions, the 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 87 

relation between them is one of correspondence. Because 
of this pecuharity of the structure, mode of existence and 
interrelations of these beings, each is called a monad; and 
the systematic whole they constitute, can be called the monad 
world. Now, Leibniz teaches that in this monad world, 
there is perfect harmony between the monad beings; they 
constitute a universe not a multi verse. While the monad 
does not exert an influence upon its fellow monads, each 
monad adjusts its own actions and conditions to the actions 
and states of all the other monads in such wise that unity, 
order, and harmony are maintained in the monad world. 
It is as if each monad took account of all the other monads, 
knew what sort of action the interests of the whole system 
called for, and intelligently acted for that end. Thus do the 
many in Leibniz's scheme constitute a systematic whole, a 
universe; while remaining a many they are a unified many. 
This unity would then seem to be a status of the many, a 
result achieved by them. The One need not therefore be 
an existing being, as monism requires ; but an ideal unity in 
the actions, the aims of the many real beings, as pluralism 
conceives it. Could we stop here we should have a plural- 
istic world view only. It would only be necessary to postu- 
late for the monad beings, absolute originality; make them 
absolutely first in the world building, and add this further 
postulate, that each one can act for the whole and purposed 
the unity and harmony of the world, and this doctrine would 
obviously be pluralism. But Leibniz's doctrine is only in 
part pluralistic; to set up the two postulates I have suggested, 
in Leibniz's view would be a begging of the whole question; 
it would cut the knot of the world problem, not untie it. 
Whence came such beings as these monads ? How is the 



88 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

individual monad able to act, both as an individual and at 
the same time so as to transcend its mere individual exist- 
ence, nay to act as if it were the One which contains the 
many ? These two problems, that of the source and basis 
of the monad world, and that of the preestablished har- 
mony between the monads lead to the other part of 
Leibniz's doctrine, the monistic side of his world view. 

Leibniz clearly teaches that the monads owe their existence 
to God whom he conceives as a Unitary Being, distinguish- 
able in his essence and his mode of existence from monad 
beings, which are in some rather ineffable way derived from 
this original Being. He also teaches that the monads not 
only owe their existence to the creative act of God as the 
supreme monad, but also that they continue to depend upon 
that same power for their existence and their powers of 
action; indeed, so complete is the dependence upon God, 
that Leibniz, in one passage, says of these monads, they are 
born of his essence from moment to moment; and he char- 
acterizes them as fulgurations, or rayings forth of God's 
nature. It is true that Leibniz distinctly affirms that con- 
tinued and intimate dependence of the monads does not 
deprive them of substance being and of self -originating 
activities; and he emphatically denies that his system is 
close akin to the system of Spinoza, which he characterizes 
as the production of a "subtle but profane philosopher." 
But cannot the follower of Spinoza legitimately ask: Where- 
in, after all, is there a material difference between the two 
world views ? So far as his relation to the monads is con- 
cerned, in what particular is there a significant difference 
between the God of Leibniz and the substance of Spinoza ? 
If as Leibniz teaches, the monads derive their nature. 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 89 

their powers of action, their possibility of becoming what 
they become, if this is altogether derived from God, pray 
what important difference is there between the monads and 
the modi of Spinoza? And furthermore, if these monads 
must constantly be preserved in being, and in whatever they 
do are constantly deriving their power to act from God, 
pray, what have these monads, either of capacity or activity 
that is really their own P Are they not in their essential 
nature just what they were made to be ? And do they not 
act in accordance with their nature? How then do they 
differ from the individual beings in Spinoza's monism? 
Again, is not the doctrine of Leibniz as deterministic as 
that of Spinoza? Can the monad-beings act otherwise 
than they do act, he other than they are? Each monad 
acts from its own nature; but its nature is not original, but 
derived from the one only fountain Source of Being. Do 
not then, the natures, the actions, the characters of these 
individual beings go back to the nature, the power of the 
One Underived Being? If this is admitted, must it not 
be said of Leibniz's monads, that each is in reality but an 
expression of the Being he calls God? Each monad ex- 
presses the nature, the meaning of the Absolute Being, in a 
particular and finite manner, or in a finite mode of being ? 
If this question must be answered in the affirmative, how 
can the follower of Leibniz meet the challenge to show in 
what particular these monad beings differ from the indi- 
vidual beings which Spinoza calls the modi of the one 
substance, God? 

Such are the difficulties in the way of Leibniz's attempt 
to hold a middle course between monism and pluralism. 
Are not such difficulties inevitable, if a thinker undertakes 



90 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

to conceive a world which shall have in it both an Absolute 
Being as the One, and other beings which shall be real in 
any other manner than as states or functions of the Only 
Substance — Being? I do not say that it is impossible to 
solve the problem of the One and the many in any other 
terms than either monism or pluralism; but up to the present 
time no such solution has been given. I do not think we 
can accept Leibniz's solution of the problem; and in my 
opinion it is the best philosophical undertaking of this kind 
which has yet been attempted. 

Our conclusion of this matter must therefore be that, 
while we are not able to say the problem of the One and the 
many is insoluble, we can say it is not yet solved. If we 
are dissatisfied with both the monistic and the pluralistic 
world views we can disprove neither, and if we believe 
either one, we must confess our philosophy cannot prove 
what faith holds true, or if we believe as does Leibniz, we 
must, I think, admit it is not for the reasons by which Leib- 
niz sought to establish the truth of what he believed. Our 
philosophizing does not create our beliefs; and there are be- 
liefs which we find it necessary and rational to hold, but 
which philosophy has not as yet, and may never verify. 
The monist doubtless finds it reasonable, yes, finds it neces- 
sary to believe in the One All and Only Real Being; but he 
has not yet been able to prove that he is right in his belief. 
So with the pluralist, who intensely believes in his many as 
the only real existing beings, and finds it both satisfying and 
rational to cherish this belief. Against the monist he can- 
not clearly establish the truth of his conception of the world; 
and likewise the believer in the reality of the One and the 
many; he too, may hold fast what he thinks true in both 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 91 

monism and pluralism, but he must at the same time con- 
fess he cannot see how the part truths are one; he will find 
it necessary and rational to hold that God is truly all in all, 
and not less firmly to hold that we are truly selves, with wills 
of our own and power on the world; he sees no contradiction 
in saying, "Our wills are ours, we know not how, our wills 
are ours to make them thine." 



CHAPTER V 

THE SOUL AND ITS CONNECTION WITH 
THE BODY 

Respecting the soul three questions confront us, (1) 
What is the original and fundamental function of the soul ? 
(2) What is the nature of the soul ? (3) How are we to 
conceive of the relation between mind and body? The 
first of these questions is psychological, the other two are 
metaphysical. 

We assume that soul, mind, self, ego are terms which 
designate the same reality. And taking these questions in 
their order, we meet at the outset two opposed psychological 
doctrines. The doctrine of voluntarism, which asserts that 
the original and primary fundamental function of the soul 
is will. The other doctrine opposed to this asserts that 
not will, but intellect has the primacy, both in genesis and 
in importance. This conception we will call the intellectu- 
alistic doctrine of the soul. Of these conceptions the intel- 
lectualistic is the older and has for the most part been the 
prevalent doctrine. The voluntaristic view, however, has 
been gaining ground in more recent years. It came in as 
the consequence of the extension of the theory of evolution 
to the mental life of man; and the consequent adoption of 
the biological point of view in the interpretation of mind. 
The voluntarist maintains that in the order of genesis, will 
is prior to intellect, action, impulse, feeling-prompted re- 
actions to environmental conditions precede intelligent 

92 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 93 

behavior; intellect comes in later, is subordinate to the will; 
it is the will's instrument, it functions for ends which will sets. 
The primacy belongs to the active nature of man ; feeling and 
action are supreme. Intellect is the instrument by means of 
which the satisfaction of wants, the attainments of ends, the 
fulfillment of purpose are accomplished. Intellect there- 
fore is subordinate, and works in the service of the feeling 
and volitional nature. 

Against this view, the intellectualist contends, that the 
original activity of the soul is cognitive. Feeling and will 
are reactions, and presuppose a something cognized, how- 
ever vaguely. Only as feeling becomes defined in its object, 
only as will activity is intellectualized, is intelligently directed, 
is it effective for life ends. The conception of ends, the 
formation of purposes, the setting of goals of action are 
intellectual functions. 

Nor is it true that there are no independent values attach- 
ing to intellect itself; that there are not theoretic as well as 
practical interests. Truth and knowledge are values not 
less than pleasure. Feelings and will do not constitute all 
values; theoretic activity has a value of its own; and it is not 
altogether subordinate or instrumental in relation to will. 
We shall come to this matter again in the discussion of 
theories of knowledge; and we will therefore pass on to the 
metaphysical problem of the soul. 

And here we meet two doctrines concerning the nature 
of the soul: (1) The substantialist's doctrine, which con- 
ceives the soul as a substance being, which is distinct from 
the various acts and states such as perception, thinking, 
feeling, willing, etc. ; (2) The phenomenon-conception, which 
makes the essence of the soul consist in the sum total of 



94 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

psychical acts and states, bound together into a unity which 
is relatively persistent and stable. 

The substance doctrine of the soul is the traditional belief, 
and is the popular view. The plain man thinks of his soul, 
mind, or ego or self, as something which is quite distinct 
from his various temporary and ever changing mental states 
and activities. His mind is as good a substance as the 
material objects about him or his own body; and he no more 
identifies the essence or real being of his soul with its chang- 
ing states, than he identifies the real being of a material body 
with the various qualities it possesses or actions of which it is 
capable. This view of the soul has back of it a long philo- 
sophic tradition; its upholders can number not a few very 
reputable thinkers. I will now develop the philosophic 
argument for this conception. 

1. The Argument from Consciousness. — ^The substan- 
tialist appeals to immediate experience, to the testimony of 
-consciousness. Self consciousness is awareness of our own 
existence as a being. Immediate experience gives the self 
or ego as a datum; we experience our self or ego as doing and 
suffering, as acting and being affected by action upon it. 
The substance being of the ego is a datum of immediate 
experience; it is the implication of seff consciousness. 

2. The Argument from Cognitive Experience. — In cogni- 
tive experience, there is a necessary recognition of activity; 
knowing is an activity; a subject knowing, and an object 
known are two inseparable terms in the cognitive relation. 
Only a being can be a knower, can cognitively act; only a 
being can perceive, think, reason, etc. This distinction of 
subject and object in knowing is constituted by an act of a 
distinguishing subject. The object is object only as it is 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 95 

made so, as it is objectified, set out for operation and 
determined by an active being. Thinking and judging 
imply the action of some being upon matter of experience, 
presented to this being. To judge is to assert, to assert is 
an altogether active affair; it is an attitude taken toward 
a presented or suggested subject matter of some sort. As- 
sertion is not less an action than is willing — indeed, it may 
be called a form of willing; it is the choice or decision 
that something presented be real. Again, knowing in- 
volves a unifying, a synthesizing activity; this synthetic 
activity involved in knowing is no formal unity; it im- 
plicates an active being, the form of whose action is syn- 
thetic and unifying. 

Our knowing therefore viewed in any particular aspect, 
has for its necessary presupposition an active being; for 
knowledge is constructive; in knowing we make or remake 
the real world; a knower is in some degree a maker, a 
transformer of the world he knows. Only a being distin- 
guishable from his action in knowing as well as from the 
reality he knows, can be a knower. 

3. The Argument from Active Experience. — Willing, 
voluntary action, purposing, deliberating, deciding — these 
are facts which only the supposition of a truly existing being 
can explain. Add to these the facts of ethical experience; 
conduct judged as good or bad, approbation, disapprobation, 
regret, remorse, and we have a group of facts and forms of 
experience, for any adequate understanding of which we 
must postulate a being, who sets before him ends to be 
realized by his action. Who values as well as knows; who 
seeks good and avoids evil; who judges his actions, their 
motives, his character and disposition; and feels complacency 



96 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

or disapprobation according to the judgment he passes upon 
himself. This moral agent must be an individual, an origi- 
nating center of actions, the home of unique interests, and 
unshared experiences. Only a substance being can thus be 
individual, original, and unique. Such a being is the only 
explanation of ethical experience. 

There is another kind of experience which demands the 
same recognition of the human self as substance being — 
religion. The religious relation involves a duality, and a 
duality of beings of the same order; the other, the greater, 
the more powerful and better than we, we must conceive as 
being, never as a phenomenon or mode. And we who 
fear, who reverence, who trust, who cling in faith to this 
greater being, must conceive ourselves as beings also. The 
entire transaction of religious experience is meaningless on 
any other view of our human selves. 

So runs the argument for the substance being of the soul. 
What reply can the upholder of the phenomenon conception 
of the soul make to this reasoning ? He will in the first place 
ask that his doctrine be understood. He does not deny the 
reality of soul life, nor any of the facts of experience. As 
little does the phenomenalist call in question the alleged facts 
of moral and religious experience. The issue between him 
and the substantialist centers on the hind of real being which 
must belong to the human soul or ego. The position of the 
phenomenalist is, that our immediate experience gives no 
knowledge of such a being, as the substantialist maintains; 
nor is it necessary to suppose such a being in order to explain 
the facts of our human experience. The phenomenalist 
directly challenges the first argument for the substance 
being of the soul. Our immediate experience, he contends, 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 97 

does not contain this soul being as a datum. The testimony 
of consciousness only means that we are conscious of having 
a belief in a self or soul as a really existing being and which 
is distinct from the various acts and states that are the con- 
tent of our direct experience. Consciousness does not 
testify to anything; it is simply awareness of the various 
acts and states themselves, not of a being which is the sub- 
ject, the cause of these experiences. Thus does the jBrst 
argument of the substantialist break down; it is based upon 
an inadmissible psychology. 

Nor, continues the phenomenalist, does the analysis of 
cognitive experience yield a soul substance as the necessary 
implication of knowledge or thinking. Perceiving, remem- 
bering, thinking, etc., have all the meaning we can give to 
them in themselves ; we do not add to their meaning or make 
their existence more intelligible by making them the activities 
and states of a substance of some sort which is in itself 
other than and distinct from these activities and states. 
Why there are such things as these particular mental pro- 
cesses is a question which could perhaps be answered by 
an All-Knower, since the reason for these particular ex- 
periences must be found in the world reality. We certainly 
are not helped by the supposition of a lot of so-called soul 
beings, endowed with specific faculties for performing these 
actions, or for having these special modes of experience. 
The point urged is, that the hypothesis of soul beings is not 
the only one we can frame, nor is it so good a supposition as 
the one suggested. The substantialist should be more 
thoroughgoing in his search for an ultimate explanation of 
the facts of common experience. The second argument of 
the substantialist, that from cognitive experience, is not there- 



98 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

fore conclusive. Nor is the third argument for the sub- 
stance conception of the soul better supported by evidence. 
Our active experiences, including the ethical and religious 
life, no more demand the assumption of a soul-substance 
than do the other parts of our experience. Will actions do 
not require the supposition of a willing being as distinct 
from these forms of activity, any more than do our cognitive 
activities. Nor are our moral experiences made more 
intelligible by this theory of a substance-being. That 
which has ethical significance, on which the value judgment 
good or bad passes, are actions and their motives, the in- 
tentions and purposes from which they proceed. These 
are all that is necessary to constitute ethical experience; our 
ethical judgments do not go back of these actions them- 
selves. The case is the same with our religious experience, 
the significance, the worth of religion remains the same, 
whether we suppose that over and above these individual 
modes of experience, there are so many substance beings to 
which these experiences are attached. Humility, trust, 
joyous confidence and hope which come from a conscious- 
ness of sharing a vaster, more enduring and friendly life — 
these which are the content of religion are not affected by 
any conception we may have of the source or the reason of 
these experiences. 

It is in this way that the phenomenalist attempts to 
show that a soul-substance is neither necessary nor ser- 
viceable in explaining our mental life. There are, he 
maintains, some features of mind which it is not easy to 
harmonize with the substance conception of the soul. One 
is the continuity and identity of personal consciousness. 
Our mental existence is an ever changing thing, a stream of 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 99 

consciousness; but despite incessant change there is con- 
tinuity and personal identity. If we make this continuity 
and personal identity functional there is no difficulty in 
harmonizing them with the flux character of our mental 
existence; but if we hold to the substance being of the soul, 
how are we to harmonize this flux character of our mental 
life with this soul substance? Does this substance soul 
remain the same, and so preserve a static identity through- 
out this entire existence ? If so, whence the changing states ? 
Does it enter into change itself, or in its own very essence, 
change ? If so, what Is it more than activity, or a phenom- 
enon ? To harmonize the substance being of the mind 
with the fact of changing mental states is the dilemma before 
the substantialist. 

Another fact gives rather serious difficulty to this theory 
of mind. It is those cases of secondary or multiplex person- 
ality, with which abnormal psychology has made us familiar. 
There are individuals who present in succession, sometimes 
in alternation, mental lives so unlike to each other in every 
feature characteristic of personality, that it must be said 
that two and even more distinct personal lives go on in the 
same individual. Thinking, feeling, willing disposition, 
character — ^in short whatever we regard as the mark of 
personality, are exhibited by each of these different groups 
of mental states. Now If we understand by a soul or mind 
a definite complex or group of mental states and activities, 
so organized as to maintain under normal conditions, a 
uniform and harmonious and stable existence, but liable 
under certain conditions to disruption, disintegration, and 
the formation of profoundly different complexes, we can 
readily understand how such alterations In personality are 



100 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

possible. But with the soul conceived as a substance, how 
are these profound mutations, these multiplications of per- 
sonality-life conceivable? What becomes of the one soul 
being in this plurality of psychic personalities ? We seem 
to have here another dilemma for the substantialist. Is he 
not driven to the admission that the one soul-being, while 
preserving its essential, identical nature, manifests itself in 
mental acts and states which are so profoundly different, 
nay opposed in character, or if he does not take this horn of 
the dilemma, can he escape the other, namely, the admission 
that the soul substance changes completely its nature, which 
means it becomes another soul-substance ? The alternative 
which the substantialist faces would appear to be, either one 
and the same soul substance and a plurality of psychic person- 
alities which are more or less contradictory, or a plurality of 
soul substances more or less alternating in their existence. 
We must now take up the remaining problem relating 
to the soul, the connection between mind and body. The 
way one conceives of this connection, is determined by his 
general conception of being. For the dualist, this connec- 
tion presents the problem of two fundamentally different 
kinds of being, uniting somehow to form one individual 
existence, conjoined in one mental-bodily life. The dualist 
may conceive the relation between mind and body, either 
as one of interaction or of correspondence, or of parallelism. 
Popular dualism holds the interaction view; the difficulty it 
involves does not occur to the naive mind. Interaction was 
the conception of Descartes; but the difficulty it involved 
did not escape his followers; and they abandoned it for a 
parallelistic view, helped out by a singular hypothesis, that 
of occasionalism. Descartes does not appear to have seen 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 101 

that only a miracle could unite in a form of reciprocal action 
his two substances, res cogitans and res extensa. His attempt 
to show how each does really act upon the other must I 
think, remain an inexplicable piece of philosophical think- 
ing, on the part of a thinker whose thought is elsewhere so 
clear and consistent. He supposed that in a particular 
region of the brain, the pineal gland, the two substances 
came into a dynamic relation, corporeal motions at this 
point inducing mental processes. The continuators of 
Descartes' philosophy saw what seemed to them insuperable 
difficulties in their master's doctrine at this point; and 
abandoned the theory of a passing influence, and boldly had 
recourse to an essentially miraculous agency. Mind does 
not act upon the body, but on the occasion of every change or 
action in each, God the creator of both substances, by 
immediate agency produces the corresponding state or activ- 
ity. And thus is the harmony between mind and body 
maintained. The processes and changes in each are made 
to run parallel, and to correspond, by means of the constant 
agency of God. This is the famous doctrine of occasional- 
ism. But the dualist can lessen this element of miracle by 
supposing the two substances were so created, that their 
acts and states correspond, or run parallel without the need 
of any subsequent interposition. The harmony might be 
preestablished, like two clocks, so skillfully made as to keep 
time together without need of interference or correction. 
The conception then becomes that of simple parallelism. 
In the monism of Spinoza, and also in agnostic monism, 
the relation between mind and body is likewise one of 
parallelism; mind and body being modes or phenomenal 
manifestations of this One substance, the parallelism is 



102 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

between phenomena, not between beings. For the idealist, 
inasmuch as the body is a phenomenon of the mind, neither 
interaction nor parallehsm is a possible conception; and for 
the same reason, for the materialist, who makes mind a 
phenomenon of the body, neither interaction nor parallelism 
is admissible. The possible views of the relation of mind 
and body therefore, are three as follows : 

1. Interaction. — The popular view and held by Descartes. 

2. Parallelism. — Held by dualists and by monists of the 
type of Spinoza and by agnostic monists. 

3. Phenomenalism. — ^mind made the phenomenon of the 
body— materialists' view; body made the phenomenon of 
the mind — ^idealists' view. 



CHAPTER VI 
COSMOLOGY 

The problems which will occupy us in this division of our 
study are the following: 

I. The problem of Space and Time. 
II. Uniformity of Nature and Causation. 
III. The Mechanical and the Teleological Methods of 

Explanation. 
Taking the problems in their order, we proceed with 

I. THE CONCEPTIONS OF SPACE AND TIME 

The Conception of Space 

To the plain man, to the uncritical mind, space means 
something objective, as much so as objects which we seem 
to perceive in space. The plain man says space is inde- 
pendent of anybody's perception of it. It is distinct from, 
yes, separable from objects which occupy it. Each object 
which we perceive occupies some definite region of this 
space, and takes up some portion of it, to the exclusion of 
other objects from the same space. But any one of these 
objects can change its position in space, can occupy some 
other portion of space and be in other respects the same 
object; and the space which this object occupies remains 
unchanged by the object's presence in, or absence from, that 

region of space; nay, were all objects suddenly to vanish, or 

103 



104 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

be annihilated, the space they occupied would remain the 
same, only it would be empty space. The most prominent 
feature of space is out-ness, and spread-out-ness. It is the 
field in which all objects of our perception exist. This 
field we conceive to be infinite; we can draw no final boun- 
daries; any limit we set necessitates a step beyond, there is 
always an unbounded extent lying outside any enclosure of 
space. It is in the space field that we locate all our percep- 
tions, those of sound and smell, and taste, not less than the 
unmistakably spatial perceptions of sight and touch. 

In the space field, every object exists in definite space 
relations to other objects, to ourselves, the percipient, and to 
every imagined percipient; these relations are position, 
distance and direction. Each object in space has a definable 
form, and its boundary lines have a definite extent. There 
is a quantum as well as a form of space-occupancy in the 
case of every object of our perceptions. Each object in 
space presents three dimensions : it has simple linear exten- 
sion or length; it has a surface, this surface having boundary 
lines which thus enclose a portion of space; each object also 
presents a third dimension, which is constituted by a linear 
extension from the percipient, or by a line that is perpendic- 
ular to its surface. Length, breadth, depth or thickness 
are the terms which designate these dimensions in space. We 
have observed that space is of illimitable extent; there is no 
absolute maximum of space extension; in another direction 
of view, space is infinite, there is no absolute minimum 
of space extension, space is infinitely devisible. A physical 
object may not be susceptible of such division, the limit of 
physical division or separation into parts may be reached, but 
we could never reach a minimal portion of space. 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 105 

Another characteristic of space must be noted, that is, its 
absolute continuity. Divisions of space are not separa- 
tions between parts of it, it does not part; between any two 
portions however small, be they mere points, another por- 
tion can be put, another point be placed. Space is not dis- 
continuous, there are no gaps within it. The discrete parts, 
the portions of space which our attention selects and which 
we abstract and so separate from their context, do not 
represent the space of our experience, but are our artificial 
mode of dealing with the concrete reality, either for theoret- 
ical or for certain practical ends. The famous argument of 
Zeno to disprove the reality of motion was based upon the 
assumption that space is a discrete quantity. The argu- 
ment assumes that space mathematically divided gives an 
infinite series whose terms are discrete quantities. The 
reasoning overlooks the continuity of space, the fluent 
character of real space. Assuming that space can be sub- 
divided so as to form a series of the same character as a 
decreasing geometrical series, and consequently assuming 
that motion through space is a process of the same sort as 
the summation of an infinite decreasing series, it was easy 
to prove that Achilles would never overtake the tortoise. 
Two errors closely kin underlie this ancient sophism; one 
is that space itself, the space of our experience, is discretely 
divisible; the other error is the assumption that motion in 
space is a process of the same nature as the summation of a 
mathematical series. It is not surprising that the locus of 
the fallacy in Zeno's argument has been a puzzle to the 
formal logicians, that so eminent a logician as Bishop 
Whately could find no logical fallacy in this reasoning. 
The fallacy is extra-logical, it is a metaphysical error. 



106 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

Time 

Though less distinctly, time to the ordinary view appears 
to have objective reality as truly as space. We distinguish 
time from the things we put in time, events, changes, our 
ever-passing thoughts; we imagine time would go on, would 
flow, as a stream, did nothing come into existence or pass 
out of it. 

We can best bring to our minds the properties of time by 
comparing time with space. Space, as we have seen, is 
out and spread out, it is a field. Time is not out or 
spread out, it is not a field. Time is an order, the charac- 
teristic of which is succession, one-after-another, a nach- 
einander — while space is a hei-einander . Hence, viewed 
in a quantitative aspect, time has but one dimension; if 
we represent a motion which follows the time order, that 
motion can be in but one direction, as the boat which follows 
the flow of the river can move in only one direction. In 
space, motion can be in any direction, to space it is indif- 
ferent what that direction is. Both time and space are 
continuous quantities (taken in their quantitative aspect), 
but space has static continuity, while the continuity of time 
is fluent; the parts of space do not move, while the parts of 
time are never at rest. As with space, so with time, in our 
conceptual treatment of it we break time up into discrete 
successive moments and periods, as if there were gaps 
between the successive portions of time. And inasmuch 
as we represent change and motion in time, we likewise 
break up what in itself is a continuous process without parts 
into separable stages and phases, and think of the motion of 
a body as the occupancy of separated portions of space in 
successive, but really separated intervals of time. And 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 107 

change we are wont to conceive as if it consisted of separable 
states of a body, or process, between which there is a gap, 
in which change is not going on. The truth is, that motion 
and change are continuous processes. The appearance of 
the body A at different points in space, in successive mo- 
ments of time, is not the fact of motion of A; that fact is the 
continuous passage of A through these portions of space in 
successive portions of time. The occupancy of different 
portions of space in successive moments of time is an incident 
to the motion of the body. So with change: The body A 
changes, it passes, we will suppose, into different states 
during a measurable time-period; at the present moment, 
it is A, at the next distinguishable moment it is A-a, at the 
next A-b-a, etc., but the different states of the body A flow 
into each other, just as the successive time moments. A, 
passing into, or becoming A-a is the fact of change; just as 
a "now," passing into the "not yet" is the fact of time. 

A somewhat intimate relation exists between space and 
time whatever be their ultimate natures. Thus, a motion in 
space is also a process in time, a moving body has both a 
spatial and a temporal character. Again, we represent the 
interval between two selected time moments by a line; the 
standing symbol of time is a stream, the expressions, the 
flow of time, the flight of time, these terms are terms of 
spatial as well as temporal connotation. To some extent 
the things of time are things of space; but there are some 
facts of our experience which we place only in time, and 
which have no spatial character. Mental states are such 
facts; ideas, sensations, thought, feeling, purpose, etc., have 
no spatial attributes; they exist only in time. Indeed, it is 
a distinction between the physical and the mental, that 



108 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

physical objects and processes can be both spatial and 
temporal, but mental processes exist only in time. 

We have set forth the characters of space and time as we 
know them in our immediate experience and as we conceive 
them in abstraction from their content, i.e., from the objects 
and events which fill them. We now come to the question, 
what are space and time in themselves ? What sort of real- 
being do they possess r The metaphysical problem of space 
and time is intimately connected with the epistemological 
problem of our knowledge of space and time. Accordingly 
we will first attack that problem. 

Concerning our knowledge of space and time there have 
been, since knowledge itself became a philosophical problem, 
two doctrines. One is the doctrine of rationalism; the 
other is the doctrine of empiricism. The rationalist 
maintains that this knowledge is original; it is due to a 
specific endowment, a faculty, a mode of functioning, which 
is independent of experience. Sense-experience, the opera- 
tion of things on our minds, may be necessary to call forth 
this innate power of cognition, but this cognition itself is not 
derived from the experience in which it arises; this knowl- 
edge is mind-born, not something which results from the 
mind's experience; our ideas of space and time are in that 
sense of the term innate and a priori. The rationalist 
admits that some of our knowledge relating to space and 
time is empirical. It is from experience alone that we know 
what particular objects are in space, what events transpire 
in time; it is by experience that we learn the definite prop- 
erties and relations by which objects and events are dis- 
tinguished in their spatial and temporal character. But the 
rationalist's contention is, this experiential knowledge is 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 109 

made possible by a non-empirical knowledge, this knowl- 
edge being the foundation on which rests all our developed, 
our special knowledge. Experience is necessary to our 
knowledge of that which fills space or time, but it does not 
give the knowledge of space and time themselves. In 
proof of his theory, the rationalist appeals to the character 
of space and time judgments, which he maintains are the 
foundation of the exact sciences. These judgments are 
absolutely universal; in this respect they differ from empiri- 
cal judgments, which though capable of great generality 
are never universal. Space and time judgments are from 
their nature universal; they hre seen to be so when their 
terms are understood; not so with empirical judgments; 
there is no necessity about them which carries strict univer- 
sality, as is the case with space and time judgments. Space 
and time judgments are therefore valid for all experience. 
Now, this certainty of their universal validity arises from the 
fact that they are underived from experience and indepen- 
dent of it; on the contrary, a judgment which is derived from 
experience cannot claim validity for all possible experience; 
it can claim validity only for experience already had. 

In opposition to this doctrine, the empiricist maintains 
that in respect to origin, our knowledge of space and 
time does not differ from our knowledge of the objects 
which exist in space, or the events which occur in time. 
Space and time have no existence or meaning apart from 
the objects of our perception; in their psychological 
character they are qualities, or features, which qualify objects, 
as truly as do color, sound, smell, resistance, etc.; and these 
spatial and temporal characters of things are experienced, as 
are the undeniable qualities and relations of things. Space 



no THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

and time in the abstract, are no more entities, known in some 
transempirical way, than are hardness, color, sweetness, 
etc. Space and time are, therefore, experientially known; 
and apart from some form of experience, we possess no 
knowledge of them whatever. The truth appears to be the 
reverse of what the rationalist teaches; space and time are 
not a priori ideas; they are not presupposed in an experien- 
tial knowledge which only seems to yield them. On the 
contrary, they presuppose experience, both in their genesis 
and in their meaning. 

Nor does the fact that space and time judgments are at 
the foundation of the exact sciences prove that these judg- 
ments are independent of experience, for it is the charac- 
teristic of the judgments which make up these sciences that 
they are hypothetical, their validity is not absolute or uncon- 
ditioned, but is always subject to the condition that exper- 
ience remain the same. The highly abstract character of the 
conceptions in these sciences enables us to rest secure in 
this assumption. The truth is, there are no absolutely 
universal or unconditionally valid judgments, which have 
anything to do with our world of experience; the rational- 
ist's necessary and consequently absolutely universal judg- 
ments are not the foundation of any of the sciences, not even 
of the so-called exact sciences; these sciences have an 
empirical basis, as much as do the concrete sciences. 

In confirmation of his view, the experientialist appeals to 
genetic psychology. Experiments and observations in the 
case of young children show that their space and time per- 
ceptions are coeval with certain sense experiences; the in- 
fant's space world shares the character of his world in its 
other features; that world in its spatial aspect is a vague 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 111 

total, a "big, blooming, buzzing confusion." The process 
through which, from this undifferentiated reality, the child's 
knowledge grows defined, and passes into definite, richer 
knowledge, is wholly experiential; no other factors or mental 
functions are to be assumed in this development than per- 
ception, discrimination, association, memory, abstract 
thinking, etc. Nowhere is there need or justification for 
supposing such a transexperiential function or sort of knowl- 
edge as the rationalist assumes. Our actual knowledge 
of space and time being thus, from the start, interwoven with 
our concrete experiences, showing as it does the same 
characteristics of growth, development, it is not only gratui- 
tous to suppose this knowledge is wholly unique; but such 
a supposition is contradicted by the facts of our mental 
development. 

Leaving this problem of our space-time knowledge we 
come to the more difficult problem of the meaning or nature 
of space and time. What sort of reality shall we predicate 
of space and time ? 

Regarding the nature of space and time there are two doc- 
trines. The one maintains that space and time are objective, 
and therefore would have meaning, would in one sense exist 
were our human minds to vanish. The other doctrine 
asserts that space and time have subjective reality only, 
and consequently, were our minds to vanish, space and time 
would be no more. I will first develop the subjectivity 
doctrine. It makes space and time the two forms in which 
our perceptive experience and inner mental states are 
arranged; space being the form in which the matter of our 
sensations are arranged, and time the form in which mental 
states and what we take to be changes in the external 



112 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

world are arranged. Space and time are two modes of 
synthesis by means of which our experience is organized, 
in the form of objects, events, changes, cause and effect 
relations. Space and time are for our human knowledge of 
fundamental importance, being the two original syntheses or 
forms of arranffement in which all the data of experience 
must be apprehended and molded, in order to form a world 
of objects, or events, in short, the world of empirical science. 
But from this meaning of space and time, serious con- 
sequences follow for our world view. One consequence is, 
that objects and events are phenomena, not things in them- 
selves. If we conceive of beings that are not objects of 
our perception, not revealed through our time experience, 
we must conceive them as non-spatial, non-temporal. 
Time and space have no relation to them; if cognitive and 
possessing spiritual life these beings or this Being does not 
know space and time, or rather, such beings do not exist 
under the conditions of space and time. But this subjec- 
tivity of space and time carries with it the ideality of the 
entire world in space and time. External objects, their 
properties, motion, causal connection, etc., in being phe- 
nomena, exist only in and for our human minds. The ex- 
ternal world viewed as to its content, does not differ from 
Berkeley's world; the only reality pertaining to our world 
which is not constituted by our minds, is what Kant called 
things-in-themselves, and the mere matter of sensations, sup- 
posed to be given by these things-in-themselves or thing-in- 
itself . Save as the source of our sensation data, things-in- 
themselves are outside the sphere of our knowledge. The 
conception of thing-in-itself is hardly more than a limitative 
conception; it marks the limit of our knowledge; it also re- 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 113 

minds us that the limit of our knowledge is not the limit of 
real being — also that our mode of knowing is not the only 
mode of cognition. But thing-in-itself or non-spatial-non- 
temporal reality, is for our minds as truly a terra incognita as 
Spencer's unknowable; space and time set the bounds to the 
world of the knowable. When we say of any being, it is 
in no manner related to space or time, we thereby confess 
that we have no positive knowledge of this being. The 
hmitation of our knowledge to phenomena is therefore 
one consequence which appears to be inevitable, if space 
and time are made purely subjective. 

But another consequence follows from this meaning of 
space and time. If there are beings, if there is a Supreme 
Being, an ens realissimum, inasmuch as time and space 
have for them no relevancy, the world to which they belong 
and our human world are as good as separated by the whole 
diameter of being. Now, this fact carries consequences of 
serious moment, for those interests which are supreme, 
morality and religious faith. 

Ethical values, the spiritual life, are bound up with the 
reality of space and time; apart from a time-process, 
activity, the struggle to realize ends, the pursuit of ideals, 
growth, development, in short, the historic life of man, are 
impossible. Ethical distinctions and values, ideals, lose 
their content, if we eliminate the realities of time and space. 
An Ultimate Being, to whom time and temporal develop- 
ment have no meaning, can hold no moral relation to our 
human life; such a being cannot be conceived as the up- 
holder of moral ideals, the Power that makes for righteous- 
ness; for such a Power must work in time, and achieve his 
purposes through a time process. 



114 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

Would not the conclusion seem to be, that if space and 
time are held to be forms of our human minds, the cosmos, 
save the mere data of sensation-matter, is wholly of our 
making, and morality and religion are also our human 
creations; we live, move, and have our being in a humanistic 
universe. 

But it is time to turn to the other doctrine which makes 
space and time objective. This objective being is either 
(1) one of quality, or (2) relation, or (3) substance. 

The quality meaning of space and time is quite in accord- 
ance with our spontaneous belief, our natural way of think- 
ing and speaking; we speak of the length of a body, the dura- 
tion of an object or an event, as we speak of the color of an 
object, the sharpness of a pain; extensity seems to be as 
truly a quality of a perceived object as its hardness; a sensa- 
tion has extensity, as really as it has intensity. Psychologic- 
ally interpreted, the words sound, square, large, here, there, 
etc., connote as truly properties of objects as hard, resisting, 
hot, sweet, etc. Qualities are relative, never absolute. 
They are relative to our experience, to some behavior of 
ours, some purpose in dealing with objects; qualities do not 
inhere in things apart from some actual or supposed ex- 
periential dealing with things; taken in this way, there 
appears be no reason for making a distinction between 
space and time, when predicated of things, and the other 
adjectival predicates. 

There is, however, one feature of space which is thought 
to be incompatible with this view; it is the intimate connec- 
tion which exists between space and all the qualities of 
perceived objects. Each quality seems to have a spatial 
character, as a part of its own quale, or to involve a spatial 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 115 

reference: thus color is always an extent, hardness is an 
extensive feeling, even the secondary qualities, smell and 
taste, carry a reference to space; they are localized; and 
feeling of extension is part of their content. If space is a 
quality of perceived objects, it is not only universal but 
sustains a peculiar relation to the other qualities. 

On more careful examination it must be admitted I think 
that space is unlike the other qualities in virtue of this 
peculiar relation it sustains to them; it does not merely co- 
exist with them, but it seems to be a part of their essence as 
qualities or to be inseparable from them. We must, I 
think, go farther and say space does not appear to be a 
quality which coexists with other qualities, but a feature, 
a part of, every quality we attribute to things in our sense 
experience. One circumstance would seem to corroborate 
this view, namely, space perception is not dependent upon 
the excitation of special nerve-organs as is the case with the 
perceptions of touch, color, sound, taste, smell, etc, ; this 
perception arises in connection with each of the other 
special perceptions, as we have seen; but the perception 
appears to depend upon a certain order or arrangement of 
the sense-impressions; the sense-impressions which admit 
most readily of this arrangement, simultaneous and succes- 
sive, are those of touch, sight and motion. It is known that 
these sense-experiences are the most important in the gene- 
sis and development of our space knowledge. These facts 
regarding space perception suggest that the quality con- 
ception of space does not offer a satisfactory solution of our 
problem. 

The view that space and time are entities, or rather sub- 
stance realities, is untenable; it owes its plausibility to 



116 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

a confusion into which unphilosophical thinking readily 
falls; the confusion of meaning and being or existence. 
Space and time lack the two fundamental requirements of 
substance-reality, activity, and the ability to enter into 
relations to other being through activity. 

The definition of space and time which makes them 
relations is not more successful than the substance concep- 
tion; for as soon as we try to make explicit what we mean 
by the relation itself, we find that we must involve space 
itself, either in the relation or in the terms between which 
the relation holds. Thus, if I say A is at the right of B, I 
may say that the relation between A and B is a relation of 
space; but obviously that does not tell me what this relation 
of space means, or what space is as a relation. K I say, 
I mean by space such a relation as there is between A and 
B when A is at the right of B I have simply defined space 
in terms of itseK. It is not possible to define the relation 
we mean by space, so as to distinguish it from other rela- 
tions, without employing either the term space or what con- 
notes space. The attempt to find the meaning, the esse 
of space in a relation leads round to the starting point, 
we move in a circle, the attempted definition is tautologic. 

The quality conception of space and time would seem to 
be the only tenable one, if we are to hold that space and 
time are objective. But may it not be that the subjective 
meaning after all is the only one in which we can rest ? If 
we abstract from mind or mental experience in some form, 
it seems impossible to say what space and time are. Form, 
order, synthesis in a conscious experience, seem to be the 
essential of these realities. We can avoid the difficulties 
we encountered when we made space and time the forms 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 117 

of our human experience. Why not make them the form 
of every perceptual experience, and of every experience in 
which there is succession, a process wherein something 
comes to be or undergoes change or passes away? It 
would not be necessary to conceive of beings which exist 
out of relation to space and time, and to divide the world 
into a space and time world and a non-spatial, non-temporal 
sphere of quality. An Absolute Being, did he exist, would 
as truly exist in space, in time, as we do; but he would not 
be limited in his knowledge and in his power of action to 
time and space conditions in the manner of our finite minds. 
He would know all that is temporal, know it in its temporal 
character; but he would comprehend all moments of time 
in one consciousness. In this Infinite Mind, the infinite 
series of time moments would be summed, would exist 
as completed. And so with space, it would set no limita- 
tions to the complete knowledge and the absolute power 
of action which this Being would possess. Thus would 
the consciousness of this Being be both temporal and 
eternal; temporal, for the passing moments, change, growth, 
etc., would be his experience; eternal, not because unrelated 
to time, but because related to all of time, to every passing 
moment, to all 'possible time-moments. 

II. UNIFORMITY OF NATURE AND CAUSATION 

We take up next the problem presented by the order, 
uniformity and interconnection which pervades the physical 
universe. 

By uniformity in nature, is meant the fact that nature 
maintains constancy and consistency in her behavior in such 
wise, that under the same conditions, the same phenomena 



118 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

always occur. Finding that A occurs to-day in a certain 
setting or context, we shall expect A to recur to-morrow 
and at any future time, provided these circumstances 
remain or recur. But this observed fact about nature is 
not an isolated feature; it points to a deeper Ipng feature^ 
a structural principle of the world; Nature is orderly and 
uniform, we say, because causal connection is a universal 
law of the cosmos. But what is causation ? What is causal 
connection ? 

Of causal connection there are two conceptions, (1) 
The empirical, or phenomenalistic conception, and (2) 
the metaphysical conception. According to the first con- 
ception, causation means simply an invariable order of 
succession in time, the antecedent event or phenomenon 
being distinguished as cause, the consequent event as the 
effect. Two things, A and B, are cause and effect if, 
whenever A occurs B occurs, and whenever A does not 
occur B does not occur; to establish the fact of causal con- 
nection, it is only necessary to ascertain and prove the inva- 
riable occurrence of B upon the occurrence of A, and its 
non-occurence in the absence of A. In this view of causa- 
tion both cause and effect are observable facts; the causal 
connection itself is likewise a fact in the observable order; 
the only circumstance which distinguishes a causal connec- 
tion from a mere sequence in time is the invariabihty of 
the sequence in the case of a causal connection. 

The second doctrine of causation maintains that, over 
and above this observable time connection between two 
phenomena, there is a determining principle which en- 
forces this time sequence, and is the reason why just this 
connection exists, and whv it is an invariable one. If A 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 119 

is the cause of B, it is so not merely in virtue of its being the 
invariable time antecedent of B. but in virtue of some 
deeper lying fact, some actual determination which it exer- 
cises upon B. In a truly causal connection, two things are 
contained; (1) invariable succession in time; this is the 
observable part of the process, and (2) an unobserved but 
necessarily presupposed fact, causal determination is 
a dynamic principle or agency. The observed, invariable 
order of events is the sign of the presence of the efficient 
factor in the total fact; it is the unobserved cause, which 
explains the observed connection between the two observable 
phenomena. 

These two ways of conceiving causal connection satisfy 
two distinct interests, the interest of science, and the interest 
of philosophical explanation. Science has no occasion to 
postulate more than an invariable order of occurrence; 
any two or more phenomena, between which such a con- 
nection exists, are respectively cause and effect. The sole 
problem for science in this matter is to ascertain what 
phenomena stand in this time order of occurrence; science 
postulates this invariable order of events as an ultimate 
fact of the cosmos; she confesses she has no other justifica- 
tion of this postulate than uniform, uncontradicted experi- 
ence. The postulate has worked, hitherto, with unbroken 
success; and the presumption of its truth is as good as a 
certainty. 

For our practical interests and aims also, this meaning 
of causation is sufficient; for the successful guidance of 
action it is only necessary that we should know on the basis 
of present conditions what to expect, what to be prepared 
for; the nature of the bond which links the facts or parst 



120 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

of our experience is not a practical question. It is only 
when we become reflective, and seek to penetrate deeper 
than the observable order of events, that we become dis- 
satisfied with this conception of causation; the plain man 
as well as the philosophical thinker finds this conception 
unsatisfactory. In his mind there is a demand for a more 
intimate, a more effective connection between the thing 
or fact we call a cause, and that which we call its effect; 
both the fact and the nature of this causal connection he 
thinks he finds in his own experience of action; he experi- 
ences agency in the execution of movements, the carrying 
out of his plans, the control and direction of what he takes 
to be forces or agents in the world about him. Causation, 
as thus known in his own experience, is something dynamic, 
efficient, a real doing of something upon something. The 
plain man carries over to nature what he finds in himseK, 
and conceives the processes there after the analogy of his 
own activities. There is something more in the cosmos 
than mere events, a succession of phenomena, moving 
pictures; there are dynamic transactions, active beings, 
forces, and energies. Bodies not only move, and change, 
they are made to move, made to change by the action upon 
them of other bodies or by energies which develop within 
themselves. In short, the actual world of concrete experi- 
ence is a world of dynamic transactions, of effective activi- 
ties, of productive agencies. Science can for her special, 
and consequently partial aims, abstract from this dynamic, 
forceful character of the cosmos; but in so doing she con- 
fesses that the knowledge she gives is only in part; her 
abstract treatment of the world must not be taken for a 
description of the world of our concrete experience. Now 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 121 

must not the philosopher agree with the plain man, so far 
as he protests against the scientiiBc meaning of causal- 
connection, as a wholly correct and complete account of 
the real world ? The real processes which go on in nature, 
the actual connection by which the individual beings of 
the world are linked, are not expressed in the scientific 
conception of causation. 

Causal connection as science conceives it is at best a 
fragmentary truth; it becomes a serious error if taken for 
more than such a part-truth. Nor is the scientific concep- 
tion without difficulty of its own; and science falls into 
embarrassment in strictly adhering to her own meaning of 
causation. According to this doctrine, that which in any 
phenomenon or fact which makes it causal in relation to 
another phenomenon is its antecedence in time; a time 
priority, be it never so little, must distinguish the cause 
from the effect; this time-priority is the only distinction 
there is between the two. The two things which are cause 
and effect can be identical in every discernible element 
save the circumstance, that one occupies the earlier position 
in the time order; or the two things may be unlike in every 
feature; since this order of occurrence is all that constitutes 
the causal relation between them. But it is at this point 
that the difficulty is encountered. Is there a time-interval 
between a cause and its effect ? Or, more exactly expressed, 
is the absolute beginning of an effect separated by a time- 
interval from the absolute termination of the cause ? Take 
the case of two balls, A and B; let the ball A in its motion 
come in contact with the ball B at rest. The result of 
course is that B begins to move; this motion of A is the 
cause of the motion of B. Now was there a time interval 



122 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

between the beginning of the effect, the motion of B, and 
that in A's motion ? Is not the real transaction an absolute 
continuity of process just as time itself is an absolutely 
continuous process ? If it be admitted that cause and 
effect are strictly contemporaneous, then obviously priority 
in time is not the distinctive mark of a causal phenomenon. 

The only escape from this difficulty is to maintain that 
there is but one process in which there are two stages or 
phases of which one may be called the effect, and the 
remaining anterior part the cause. But would it be pos- 
sible to interpret causal connection in this way, in those 
instances in which the two terms are heterogeneous P We 
have apparently in such cases not two phases of one process, 
but two processes which are quite different in character. 
The answer to this question is that the ideal of scientific 
explanation is the reduction of phenomena to their simplest 
elements and elementary phenomena to motions; and 
these are so far homogeneous as to admit of description 
and measurement by the same formulae. Now wherever 
we succeed in finding a causal connection, it is possible to 
analyze the two phenomena between which this relation 
subsists into processes of actual or potential motion, which 
we can assume to be continuous; and the same fundamental 
character, and then the terms cause and effect, will mark 
the two distinguishable phases or stages in this process. 

It would seem to be made out that for science, causal 
connection need be only an empirical fact; and the concep- 
tion of cause need have no metaphysical implication what- 
ever. Of course, the scientific thinker does not deny that 
there is a deeper reality than phenomenal causation; but 
what may be the nature of this underlying reality he main- 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 123 

tains is not a problem for science; science has explained &. 
phenomenon when she has described in general terms the 
manner in which that phenomenon has occurred; and the 
term cause, causation, is one of these descriptive terms. - 

But here as elsewhere, the philosophical thinker finds 
his problem where science is content with assumption or 
postulates. The philosopher so far agrees with the plain 
man in maintaining that the essence of causation lies back 
of that which science calls causation. The metaphysical 
thinker insists that such a fact as invariable succession in 
time, an invariable antecedent for a given event, in itself 
calls for explanation; the postulate that this relation of 
antecedence and consequence is unconditional and invari- 
able needs justification; the mere fact that it has been 
observed hitherto with no exception is itself not a rational 
ground of assurance; uniform experience up-to-date is cor- 
roborative, only because it strengthens the belief in active 
and efficient nature in things not seen which determines 
this visible order in time, and is the only reason that there 
is such a fact as an invariable antecedent and consequent. 

Our time-experience is that of an irreversible succession. 
Now, this fact that we cannot in experience reverse the time 
order is explicable only if we suppose the content of experi- 
ence, the filling of time, is subject to an agency which 
determines this order, and makes it irreversible. Of 
course, the question, what is the source, what is the nature 
of this determining influence, carries us back to the problem 
of ultimate being; it is a part of the larger question, what 
is the ultimate being of the world? Causal connection is 
a special feature of the cosmos, a more comprehensive 
conception of the cosmos which includes this feature of it. 



124 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

is that all parts, the ultimate structural elements of the 
cosmos, exist in reciprocal dependence; they form a system- 
atic whole, within which each element or individual has 
its. place and function determined by its connection with 
the whole; so that no change can take place in any one 
element, without involving a corresponding change in 
every one of the others. It results from this structure of 
the world, that the real cause of any given event is the sum 
total of conditions existing at the time; the universe is 
implicated in every one of its parts, and changes in every 
individual change; it is owing to the time-form of our 
experience that causation assumes the character of anteced- 
ent and consequent; we live in time; our practical interests, 
our purposes, our expectations, etc., have to do mainly 
with the succession of events, the flow of experience; both 
for our theoretic and our practical purposes we need to 
include in the cause of a given phenomenon only those con- 
ditions, near or remote, which have a sensible effect upon 
the phenomenon, and which we need to take account of, 
if we would predict the occurrence of this phenomenon, 
or be prepared for the recurrence of a like phenomenon. 
This larger conception of causal connection makes it 
synonymous with the principle of sufficient-reason; and 
sufficient reason includes ends, purposes, as well as anteced- 
ent conditions, or what are called efficient causes. And 
this larger view makes it clear, that causal explanation, as 
we ordinarily conceive it, is a partial explanation; it is 
giving only a part of the sufficient reason for the fact that 
is under investigation. As we have seen, for the aims of 
science, and for our practical needs, this partial explanation 
is sufficient; but for the philosopher who seeks the whole 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 125 

of the suflScient reason, the true cause of the simplest 
happening in the world, is the nature of the whole. 

So much for the meaning of causation. We pass now 
to the question, whence our knowledge of cause and effect ? 

Regarding our knowledge of uniformity of nature and 
causal connection there are three doctrines, (1) the doctrine 
of rationalism, (2) The doctrine of pure empiricism, (3) 
the doctrine that uniformity of nature and causal connec- 
tion are postulates. 

The first of these doctrines holds, that we have intuitive 
and consequently certain knowledge that nature is uniform 
and all events causally connected. This knowledge is 
derived from reason, is a priori, and the propositions in 
question are seK-evident; our reason discerns and affirms 
this rational structure of the world. 

The empiricist maintains that these beliefs are wholly 
empirical in origin, and their validity rests wholly upon 
experience. Uniformity of nature and causal connection 
are empirical facts ; they are two characteristics of the world 
of our experience; this routine manner in which events occur, 
being constant within the limits of experience up to date, 
we expect will hold good of experience not yet had; this 
belief in the universality of what experience has shown, 
is a simple induction, a generalization from experience. 
This disposition to generalize from experience to expect 
that the future will be like the past, is like other native 
propensities, an ultimate fact of our mental natures, an 
instance of the law of habit, which seems coextensive with 
all organic life. 

The third doctrine agrees with rationalism in its rejection 
of the empiricist's position; and with empiricism, in its 



126 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

denial of intuitive and a priori knowledge of causal connec- 
tion. The essence of postulation is not to claim knowledge, 
but to ask that something be taken as true for the purpose 
of such experience and action as will justify this postulation. 
The source of these two postulates is deeper than mere 
habit resulting from a passive experience; that source is 
rather a rational nature, which is both theoretic and prac- 
tical; the need to know, the need to act. The deeper root 
of these postulates is in our ethical nature. It is the de- 
mand that nature will not put us to intellectual confusion 
in our efforts to know, or frustrate our endeavor in the 
maintenance of life. 

Against the rationalist's doctrine, stands the fact, that 
men who have not developed intelligence on the basis of 
experience do not take nature to be uniform, nor recognize 
a causal connection In phenomena. Only gradually, and 
after repeated experiments in dealing with nature, does 
the idea arise, that there is uniformity and causal connec- 
tion in nature; these are not discovered until they are 
looked for. The way in which this connection is produced 
In the mind, clearly shows that it is no intuition or product 
of a priori function. The psychological-historical genesis 
of these beliefs disproves the rationalistic theory of their 
origin. 

There is doubtless a considerable measure of truth in 
the purely empirical theory; this routine character of the 
cosmos, this determinate order in time of all its events, 
are facts of experience; our belief is validated only by 
experience; it would be quite destroyed by contradictory 
experience; it holds firm so long as experience runs without 
exception in this direction. But, unless the conception 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 127 

of experience is broadened, so as to include certain active 
elements, certain selective activities and will attitudes, 
tentative ways of reacting to the merely given matters 
of experience, the empirical theory hardly explains these 
conceptions of nature. This way of conceiving, and 
actively taking the world, is the fruit of a dealing with 
the data of direct experience, which resuts in no incon- 
siderable modification of the brute factls themselves: a 
transformation of the world which our direct experience 
presents. Nature presents to simple passive experience 
quite as often a chaos, as anything coherent and orderly; 
order and connectedness are found, only as by selective 
attention, and in pursuit of certain ends, we constructively 
reach them. Order and causal connection are not im- 
pressed upon our minds by a passive experience of them; 
they are rather ways of conceiving nature which, for our 
human needs and purposes, we are impelled to adopt; and 
which we increasingly verify by experience; these beliefs 
are not mere results of experiences we have of nature; they 
are rather the fruits of our experiments with nature; and 
into this experimentation (which is both theoretic and 
practical) there enter factors of which the simple empirical 
theory takes no account. The disposition to look for order 
and connection in the world, where we do not observe it, 
to persist in the conviction that it exists, despite contra 
appearances, to extend this order and connection through- 
out the range of possible experience, has its root in a deeper 
function of our nature than empiricism assumes. It is 
this deficiency which the postulation-theory supplies. 
According to this theory, our world comes to present 
uniformity of behavior and causal connection largely in 



128 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

consequence of the methods we are forced to adopt in 
handling the materials which experience yields. Three 
facts are especially prominent in shaping this conception 
of nature: 

1. Social communication, which makes possible common 
understanding, common work, cooperation for common 
ends, and the satisfaction of social needs. Social commu- 
nication leads us to select, to single out these features of 
regularity and coherence, which experience presents, to con- 
ceptualize and make them universal. 

2. Our industrial arts lead to the same way of treating 
nature; for our success in these arts, we need stability, uni- 
formity and connectedness in our world; we tentatively as- 
sume they are there; we work on this postulate, and gradu- 
ally verify it by our experience in its working. 

3. Our scientific knowledge, born in part out of practical 
needs, always controlled by practical interests, takes this 
active and constructive attitude toward the world it is seek- 
ing to explain. It postulates at the very outset that structure 
of the world which it is necessary the world shall possess 
if science is to succeed in her task. The whole work of 
science is thus a tentative thinking of reality, to see what 
will come of our endeavor. This postulatory attitude to 
Nature, this venture of faith, and willingness to work upon 
the postulate, is the spirit of science. Nature's uniformity 
and causal connection are two fundamental postulates on 
which science is willing to work; and she has worked so 
successfully upon them that they have assumed the character 
of axioms; they are not self-evident truths, intuitively 
known as rationalism teaches, but postulates, springing 
from deep rational necessities, both theoretic and practical; 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 129 

and, uncontradicted by ages of experience, they have the 
working value of axiomatic certainties. 

III. MECHANICAL AND TELEOLOGICAL CONCEPTIONS OF 
THE WORLD 

The third special problem in cosmology is presented by 
the facts of unity, harmony, and various adaptations, those 
which exist between inorganic and living beings and, par- 
ticularly, the adaptations of living beings to their environ- 
ment. The central problem is that of organic nature. 

In explaining the facts of organic nature two principles 
have been followed, two conceptions have been held, 
mechanism and teleology. Our problem relates to the 
meaning and the vahdity of these conceptions. 

I will first define the two principles of explanation. 

1. The principle of mechanic-explanation: To explain 
mechanically is to find the explanation of any given event 
or phenomenon in some antecedent condition or condi- 
tions, or in agencies which operate with the same undeviat- 
ing regularity which we observe in the action of machines 
which our art constructs. The agencies which produce 
the result under investigation do so without prevision of 
this result, and in accordance with a principle of determina- 
tion which makes just this event or phenomenon certain, 
and excludes the possibiHty of a different result in the 
existing conditions. 

2. The principle of teleological explanation. A fact 
or phenomenon is teleologically explained, when it is not 
only seen to be a result, an effect or terminus of a process 
of change, but is viewed as an end, in relation to which 
these antecedent conditions and changes have their meaning. 



130 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

In the teleological conception of an event, or being, this 
being or event is conceived to control and direct the agencies 
or series of changes which issue in this result. 

These two conceptions, mechanism, teleology, will be 
more sharply defined, if we indicate their points of difference. 

1. In the mechanical conception of an event or being 
the antecedent process or events are the sole explainers of 
the given fact. In the teleological conception, these anteced- 
ent conditions are not the sole explainers of the given fact; 
this fact is more than a result, it is also an end, and so 
something which is more than an antecedent is necessary 
to explain it. 

2. In the mechanical explanation, the agencies which 
effect a given result are in no manner influenced by the 
result in which they terminate; this resultant is not a goal 
or end. It is indispensable to the teleological explanation, 
to interpret this resultant as at the same time a goal, an 
end, and consequently to hold that this end prior to its 
actualization influences whatever processes issue in it as a 
result. An end-seeking, if not end-directed activity, or 
process, is fundamental to a teleological explanation. On 
the contrary, so far as an explanation is mechanical, it 
must exclude this kind of agency. 

We have now to discuss the validity of these two princi- 
ples of explanation. In dealing with nature we seem to be 
justified in the use of both principles, notwithstanding the 
opposition between them. 

We find in nature that processes go on with a machine- 
like regularity; we find that any particular phenomenon 
which we may single out has certain antecedent conditions 
on which it invariably follows; these being given, we feel 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 131 

certain that this consequence and no other could follow; 
we are never disappointed in this expectation when we 
have become certain of the antecedent conditions; given 
these and the event in question seems to follow by the same 
kind of necessity as that which we recognize in the working of 
a machine; in which, when a movement of a definite kind 
takes place in one part of the mechanism, a definite move- 
ment necessarily results in some other part of the mechan- 
ism, and just that particular motion and no other is possible 
at that time. Now inorganic nature at least presents 
this mechanical aspect; this feature of it is so fixed and so 
persistent that there is forced upon our minds the conviction 
that every phenomenon, every thing which comes to be, is 
the inevitable outcome of its antecedent conditions. If, 
now, we extend our survey over the organic kingdom, in 
the lowest forms at least we can discover no departure from 
this machine-like behavior; the seemingly spontaneous 
movements of the microorganisms are determined by 
mechanically acting stimuli, and the answering reaction 
is mechanical to this extent at least, that the action per- 
formed, the responses, movements, are in every instance 
the only ones that are possible in the given circumstance. 
The processes which go on in the organism are, in the ulti- 
mate analysis, physico-chemical in character, and do not 
differ, save in complexity, from those which go on in inor- 
ganic nature; and organic behavior appears to be as much 
the mechanical resultant of these processes, as the behavior 
of inorganic bodies is the resultant of definite physical 
forces. 

If we ascend to the higher level of organisms with a 
nervous system, we do not find the mechanical form of 



132 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

action superseded by action of a different type; the processes 
which go on in the most complex nervous system are reduci- 
ble to molecular movements, as mechanical in character 
as are the motions of bodies in the external world. Reflex 
actions are executed with the same undeviating regularity, 
the same inevitableness and exclusion of alternative actions, 
which characterize the motions we see take place in the 
inorganic world; if we cannot predict the actions of living 
beings as we do the actions which occur in non-living 
beings, it is solely for the reason that they are determined 
by infinitely more complex conditions, not because they 
are determined in a different manner; every action or 
movement of an organism is the resultant of its internal 
conditions, as they are themselves determined by environ- 
mental conditions, or have been so determined; both sets 
of processes, those within the organism and those without, 
appear to be mechanical; and the behavior of the organism, 
its reactive movements, etc., are, to all appearance, of the 
same type, namely, mechanical; they are determined by 
antecedent conditions, and not by ends or purposes. 

But how is it when we come to the level of distinctly 
conscious behavior, and especially our human actions? 
Are we not confronted by a condition of things which makes 
the mechanical method of explanation totally inadequate, 
if not wholly irrelevant ? Are not such undeniable things 
as ideas, purposes, intentions, the explainers of the actions 
which follow them, in a very different sense from that in 
which the motion of the body A explains the motion of the 
body B? We cannot, therefore, assimilate the actions of 
inteUigent, feeUng, and purposing beings to the type of 
mechanical actions; to do so, is to overlook their significance. 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 133 

and to leave them unexplained; and the point here urged is, 
that our actions are not related to our purposes and aims, 
as are the motions of physical bodies to antecedent conditions. 
If we permit ourselves to say, our ideas, our purposes, cause 
our external actions, we do so in a different meaning of the 
term from that in which we say the billiard ball A by its 
impact caused the ball B to move in a certain direction. 
Actions are the expressions of purposes, not the effect; the 
bodily movements, the words and deeds of our human 
fellows, are the symbols of their thoughts, their emotions 
and their wills; not effects^ not mechanical resultants of their 
inner states. It is the plan in the mind of the architect, the 
ideal of the artist, which explains the building, the painting, 
the statue; take these away, and that part of the result which 
must be attributed to them, and you have only a shapeless 
pile of stone, a mass of paint and canvas; eliminate the 
non-mechanical constituent in this manuscript that is being 
all too slowly and too poorly elaborated, and what remains 
are characters in ink, on sheets of white paper. Mechanical 
processes doubtless are involved in the formation, the dis- 
position and in the spatial arrangement of each letter, each 
word, which compose this manuscript; but they do not 
explain this piece of philosophical discussion that is going 
on in these written characters, any more than the mechanical 
processes which undoubtedly had for their result the Parthe- 
non or Saint Peter's dome explain these structures. And 
what is true of these productions of human art is true of 
organic structures in nature; it may be shown that mechan- 
ically acting agencies have terminated in the insect's eye, 
the eagle's wing, and the still more marvelous eye of man; 
but they do not explain the significance, the function of 



134 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

these organs; the flight of the eagle, the minute seeing of the 
insect, the uses of the human eye, are something more than 
resultants of mechanically operative agencies or conditions. 
To say the insect has this microscopic vision, because it has 
eyes, the eagle flies because it has wings, and man fashions 
his wonderful structures because he has hands, is to stop 
far short of the goal in our explanation; do we not need to 
reverse the terms of this statement, and say, the insect 
has multiple eyes in order to see, the eagle its powerful 
wings in order to sustain his long flight, and man has hands 
that he may create works of art ? Are we not constrained 
to view these adaptations as more than mechanically attained 
results ? 

Can we escape the conclusion that in some way these 
ends had to do with the processes through which they are 
realized P This raises the question of the vahdity of the 
teleological principle in the explanation of nature. We 
have seen that the proposition, nature is mechanical in all 
her ways, is justified by the facts of observation and secure 
induction therefrom; the reign of mechanism is indisputable. 
Is the proposition, nature is teleological, at least in some 
of her ways, susceptible of proof ? Is explanation by ends 
as legitimate as explanation by antecedents? Here is the 
point at which the issue is joined between the teleological 
and the antiteleological theories. 

Teleological explanation is undeniably valid in the realm 
of human action and productions; teleology is at home in our 
human world; History is teleological or meaningless; to 
eliminate ideas and purposes from human productions 
were to destroy the moral, the historical and political sciences 
altogether, in short it were to make the study of mankind 



I 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 135 

a meaningless undertaking. The issue between mechanism 
and teleology centers in the question, is organic nature 
teleological, or is mechanism the only valid principle of 
explanation in the phenomena of living beings ? That 
organisms are unlike physical bodies, that impulses, crav- 
ings, purposive actions, characterize the behavior of living 
beings at a certain stage of development, the upholder of 
the purely mechanical explanation does not deny; nor does 
he deny that adaptations, the fitness of organic structures 
to certain functions, say flying, swimming, pursuit and 
capture of prey, are facts; what the advocate of the purely 
mechanical explanation does deny is, that these adapta- 
tions, the performance of these sorts of actions, were factors 
determining or guiding the processes by which the organism 
with its adaptive structures came into being. Now this 
is just what the teleologist must maintain; and the dispute 
between them narrows itself to this question, have the 
organic structures which abound jn nature, existed as 
ideas, and in that ideal mode of existence controlled and 
directed the agencies or conditions by which they have been 
formed P Or, to reduce the question to more exact terms, 
have the adaptations of the different species of plants and 
animals to their environment been operative as an idea, 
determining or guiding the forces by which adaptive struc- 
tures and then consequent functions have been produced P 

The teleologist answers this question in the affirmative. 
He maintains that the assumption of an end-seeking agency 
is the only rational explanation of such structures as we 
find everywhere in organic nature; indeed, so he contends, 
a single organism, with its parts and special organs, each 
implying the others, and dependent upon them for its 



136 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

function, is inexplicable, if viewed as the product of merely 
mechanical forces; organic beings are inexplicable, unless 
we assume they are the product of a labor working to an 
end, and that in some way the end yet to be directs the 
labor by which it is made actual. And, continues the 
teleologist, whether we conceive this directing, controlling 
agency as a distinct form, and extraneous to the forces it 
controls and directs, or as imminent in them, as the inner 
nature of these forces, which seem to act blindly and with 
mechanical necessity, is immaterial; we must recognize a 
teleological principle, locate it where we will, and conceive 
its nature and mode of operation in whatever manner we 
choose. 

The teleologist supports his doctrine by three lines of 
argument, as follows: 

1. The alternative to teleology is in principle the old 
theory of a fortuitous coincidence of purely independent 
and blindly acting agents. The alternative is either 
purpose, or chance; a third alternative is not possible. 
The problem is, to explain the coincidence, the converging 
of a number of independent agencies upon one result; 
for instance, the production of a seeing eye, a wing that 
enable the bird to fly; not only the coincidence of independ- 
ent agencies in the production of a single organ, or an 
individual organism; but the tout ensemble of organisms 
and their relations to each other and to inorganic nature. 
This is the problem, and the argument is, that the alterna- 
tive solutions are teleology, a purposive agency, or chance. 
To attempt to break the force of this reasoning, by substi- 
tuting for chance causation, law, is not relevant; for the 
crux of the antiteleological argument is, in the unity of 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 137 

result produced by the action of several, yes a multiplicity 
of separate agents, all of which by the supposition are 
acting without the control or guidance of a principle which 
takes account of the end that is attained. Nor is this 
difficulty overcome, or in any degree lessened, by invoking 
the aid of evolution; for it is indifferent to the significance 
of the final outcome, whether the process by which this 
result has been reached was gradually effected by successive 
increments of slight changes, a process extending through 
a vast period of time, or, whether the process be one of 
short duration, and one making great and sudden change. 
If there was no end-seeking and directive principle at work 
it remains just as inexplicable how such phenomena as or- 
ganic nature presents came about by evolution, as without 
evolution. Evolution affords no escape from the dilemma, 
unless evolution is itself a teleological process. 

And this leads to the second argument: 

2. The antiteleologist in his appeal to evolution is 
slain by his own weapon; evolution is a meaningless con- 
ception, or rather a word without meaning, if we eliminate 
from it the conception of an end; evolution is a teleological 
process, or it is a name without a meaning; the purely 
mechanical evolution involves a contradiction in terms. 
Therefore, to explain by evolution, and at the same time 
to deny the validity of the teleological conception, is a self- 
contradictory procedure. The antiteleological evolution- 
ist, if sincere in his undertaking, deceives himself; he 
tacitly employs a conception which he should discard; his 
seeming success in dispensing with teleology is due to his 
failure to recognize the true nature of the method he is 
using, in other words he is a teleologist without knowing it. 



138 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

3. The third argument in support of the teleological 
explanation is derived from the teleological character of our 
human actions. Man is either supernatural, or he is a part 
of the cosmos; in this part of the cosmos teleological action 
is as undeniable as the reign of law in the physical universe. 
But, if the doctrine of evolution is valid, teleological 
processes are not peculiar to man's world; they must be 
coextensive with organic nature, or continuity, which is 
the working assumption of evolution, is broken. Unless 
nature is teleological, there is a gap between nature and 
man; and this is something which no consistent upholder 
of the doctrine of evolution can admit. The alternative 
would seem to be, either there is no teleological action in 
the human world, or nature, out of which man has come 
by evolution, is teleological also. 

But this argument, which is based upon the continuity 
of man's life with the life of the sub-human kingdom, is 
strengthened by a collateral argument which, though 
analogical, is very strong. There is an identity between 
the productions of human art and organic structures which 
are produced in nature; this identity holds between those 
marks in human productions, which demand a teleological 
explanation, and certain marks observed in the productions 
of nature; and if it be a valid principle of reasoning, that 
like effects are produced by like causes, it would seem to be 
incontrovertible, that if these productions in the human 
world necessitate the inference to a teleological cause, or 
agent. Productions in nature which exhibit the same marks 
justify the inference to teleological cause as their only 
adequate explanation. Take, for example, the watch in 
the famous argument of Archbishop Paley, and the human 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 139 

eye. A comparison between these two structures shows 
that in certain points they are closely alike, we may say 
identical, in other respects they are manifestly unlike; the 
contention of the teleologist is, that analogy between the 
watch and the eye holds in the circumstances which are 
essential to it — ^the circumstances which are material in the 
reasoning; while the circumstances in which these produc- 
tions differ are not material to the inference drawn. The 
agreeing circumstances are: (1) Adaptation to a specific 
purpose or function; in the case of the watch, measuring 
time; in the case of the eye, seeing. (2) The concurrence 
of a number of different processes in effecting this struc- 
tural adaptation, the several wheels, springs, and their use 
in enabling the watch to keep time, the various parts of 
the eye, the processes which go on in each, and on which 
sight depends. (3) The peculiar relation between these 
parts and these processes, each part of the watch, each 
movement within it, so adjusts itself to the other parts 
and movements within the watch as if it took account of 
them, and knew just what sort of structure and what man- 
ner of behavior the function of the whole structure required 
of it; this relation of interdependency and mutual adjust- 
ment is the third circumstance in which teleological pro- 
ductions of man agree with the productions of organic 
nature. 

Now, in our human world, whenever we come upon a 
production or a structure, which presents these three sets of 
marks, we do not hesitate, nay, we are rationally compelled 
to assume a teleological agency, a labor working to an end. 
And this connection is unaffected by any knowledge we 
may have, or not have, concerning the particular mechanical 



140 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

processes or agencies by which this structure or organ was 
formed; whether the watch was made by hand, and we 
observed the watchmaker in his work, or whether it was 
made by a watch-making machine, or, let it be even sup- 
posed the watch grew or gradually came into being we know 
not how; that which compels and justifies our belief in an 
end-directed agency of some sort remains the same. 

Now, when we find the same set of marks in the case of 
organic structures, can we avoid the same inference to a 
teleological principle, or agency, in nature ? Let us assume 
that we know the method of nature in the production of 
the eye; suppose that this method includes a great num- 
ber and variety of processes; and suppose that this eye 
structure is the final stage of a long course of develop- 
ment, would this fact affect in any manner the belief 
that the eye and its vision was an end toward which all 
these forces were directed ? 

IV. OBJECTIONS TO TELEOLOGY 

I have thus presented what I am disposed to think is 
the strongest argument for the teleological interpretation 
of nature. Let us now hear what answer the anti-teleologist 
will make to this reasoning. He will reply: 

1. " The teleological agency, if there be one, nowhere dis- 
penses with the need of mechanism; this agency is nowhere 
effective, in no instance attains its goal, without the cooper- 
ation of conditions and agencies which are mechanical. 
Furthermore, wherever we are able to comprehend these 
conditions, and the agencies which operate mechanically, the 
result for which the teleological explanation is claimed, is just 
that result which is necessary in the given conditions; this is 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 141 

true even of the productions of human art, man produces 
nothing by art, by a designing intelligence, which is not 
absolutely the product of mechanically acting forces. 

2. "In the second place, granting that teleology is 
indisputable in the human world, it does not follow that it 
is necessary or admissible in nature; it does not involve 
a break in the continuity of evolution to admit a teleological 
agency in man's world, and to deny the necessity of it in 
the subhuman kingdom; continuity or evolution does not 
exclude the coming in of something new, something not 
strictly identical with what already is. Mind need not 
exist in matter, even potentially, in order that the law of 
evolution shall not be broken. A teleological principle 
or agency does not therefore need to be assumed in inorganic 
nature, because it exists in a more advanced stage of evolu- 
tion. The teleologist's argument from the supposed con- 
tinuity of evolution is without force. 

3. "Nor" continues the rejecter of teleology "is the 
denier of teleology forced to face the alternative of teleolog- 
ical explanation or chance explanation, which, of course, is 
really no explanation. The time was, when the denier of 
teleology could be challenged to explain, in what other 
way could the wonderful adaptations and organs in plants 
and animals have been brought into existence; but now 
that time has passed, thanks to the discovery of natural 
selection, a vera causa in nature, the way out of that dilemma 
is open. Evolution by natural selection quite dispenses 
with a teleological principle; at this point the conten- 
tion is, that if evolution by natural selection is a third 
alternative, this part of the argument for teleology breaks 
down. And this leads to the only really substantial argu- 



142 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

merit for the teleologist's position, the argument from 
the analogy of organs and adaptations in nature to the 
productions of human art. All the evidence there is of 
purpose in nature is drawn from this assumed identity 
between the marks of such purposive agency exhibited 
in the human world, and marks exhibited by organic 
nature. Now, the nerve of this proof is analogical infer- 
ence, a form of inference which is relatively weak in its 
best estate; and in this instance weak, because of the 
necessity of passing beyond the field of our human experi- 
ence, within which verification is possible. Our knowl- 
edge that our actions are teleological is solely experiential; 
directly experiential in case of our personal actions, and 
indirectly experiential in case of the actions of our human 
fellows; it is the uniformity of our experience, and that only, 
which constitutes the strength of our belief in teleological 
agency in the human part of the cosmos; for example, the 
strength of the belief, that the watch which Paley's man 
stumbled upon in crossing a heath had a contriving mind 
for its author, was the uniform experience, that such a mind 
has always been the antecedent fact, when a watch comes 
into existence. Now, so long as our observation is limited 
to products of human art, we are certain that a purpose or 
intention or design was their antecedent condition; but, 
when we pass beyond the sphere of our human actions 
and their products, we can at best possess no such certainty, 
and our belief, if it is to rest on rational grounds, will be 
weakened just in proportion as we have reason to suppose 
that the ways of the cosmos are unlike our ways. Let us 
suppose Paley's watch-finder had stumbled upon an eye; 
now, granting that the eye presents a set of marks, very 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 143 

closely resembling those marks from which was inferred 
an intending mind in the case of the watch, would he have 
been justified in inferring a non-human, a nature mind, 
as the explainer of the eye? Hardly so. He would 
remind himself, that the two cases are separated by an 
important difference; he has had experience of watch 
making, of eye making he has had no experience; he does, 
however, know that in other respects nature's methods are 
very unlike the art of man; he would consider too, that 
nature possesses resources infinitely more vast and varied 
than we have yet suspected; but, what is of decisive 
importance, this finder of the eye, if he had chanced to 
read the ' Origin of Species,' would find it quite impossible 
to regard this eye as the product of an intending, purposive, 
thought; on the contrary he could only view it as the final 
outcome or result of a natural course of things, in which 
there is no trace of a forelooking, a guiding agency; but 
the natural, the inevitable result of prior and contempora- 
neous conditions. Thanks to the discovery of natural 
selection we know the way in which nature produces these 
marvels of adaptive structures, to which the teleologist 
could always so confidently appeal, and which, before 
Darwin's time, did indeed present an insoluble problem 
for the anti-teleologist. And we now see that nature's 
method is totally unlike our human art; our teleological 
agency; and therefore the argument, resting wholly upon 
analogy, utterly breaks down. It is this demonstrated un- 
likeness between the method of nature and the agency of 
man, which has given to the famous teleological argument 
of Paley its death blow." 

"Examination of this method of nature in the production 



144 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

of organisms and their adaptive structures, shows that a 
teleological agency is entirely superfluous, if it is not inad- 
missible; for what is this method of which nature brings 
into existence these structural adaptations in plants and 
animals P Briefly it is the following: (1) Offspring 
resemble the parent organisms, they tend to repeat or 
perpetuate the structure of the parental or ancestral organ- 
ism. They also tend to be unlike the parent organism, 
to vary in almost all points of structure. ('2) Organisms 
tend to multiply at such a rate as to create a vast excess of 
living beings over means of subsistence. (3) Organisms 
are exposed to hostile environmental conditions; they must 
struggle for existence not only against these adverse physical 
conditions, but also against other organisms that are their 
competitors for the means of subsistence. 

"Now, with these facts before us, we can understand how 
natural selection has operated in bringing into existence 
through a very long period of time such organic structures 
as the eye, the wing, the wonderful structures seen in the 
vegetable kingdom as well. These adaptative organs have 
come to exist, because only those creatures which possessed 
them have been able to exist, have survived in the struggle 
for existence. These structures have been gradually formed 
by the accumulation of variations, each variation in the 
direction of better flight, better seeing, etc., being of decisive 
advantage to its possessor, a very slight variation being 
enough to determine whether the individual should survive 
or perish. Now, we may call this agency of nature, selection; 
but it is quite unlike man's selection, though it may lead to 
a like result; nature selects by dooming the unfit, by elimi- 
nation of those organisms which are ill-adapted to the con- 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 145 

ditions of life; those only are chosen, which happen to possess 
the adaptive organs which the existing conditions call for. 
Now, this selective agency of nature is clearly not purposive; 
at all events, it need not be so; there is no evidence whatever 
that it is teleological. The factors operative in it are causal, 
and blind as to their ejfect. Natural selection wholly dis- 
penses with the need of a teleological principle in explaining 
the facts of organic nature. We shall not say such and such 
special organs were made, in order to enable their possessors 
to live, but only those beings which possessed these organs 
have been able to live; thanks to the circumstances of 
having better organs, these creatures have surAdved while 
countless thousands which did not have them perished." 

" But," the teleologist will reply to this reasoning, " natural 
selection may be the true account of the way in which the 
species of plants and animals have been created, but nature 
can be teleological, and we have here a strong disposition 
to see in nature something which is akin to our own minds; 
the impulse to interpret organic phenomena everywhere 
teleologically, is, as natural, as strong as the disposition to 
employ the causal principle; both are rational methods of 
dealing with our world, and there is no good reason for 
limiting the use to our human world." "Nor do naturalists 
themselves resist this propensity to explain special organs in 
teleological terms, and to use such terms as for the purpose, 
in order that, to this or that end, indeed, it is more consonant 
with our rational way of dealing with phenomena, to put 
functions before structure, and to make a given structure 
intelligible from the point of view of its function, rather 
than to explain a function from the structure with which it 
is correlated." 



146 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

"Moreover, is it not true that the behavior of all living 
beings whose inner states we can in any degree represent to 
ourselves is teleological no less than our own behavior? 
No living being in action is a mere machine; instincts, im- 
pulses, cravings, feelings, the will-to-live, is no affair of 
mere-mechanism; there is a movement to an end, motived 
by something which seeks — or tends toward — what is not 
existent, rather than just blind vis a tergo. The model of a 
machine or a configuration of molecules in motion does not 
describe the behavior of the lowest forms of living being; 
every such being seems to reach forward, to act for some- 
thing rather than jrom, something which merely drives it as 
a wheel in a machine moves its neighboring wheel, a body, 
the body it impinges upon, by mechanical thrust or blind 
force." 

"There is room in nature for both mechanically operative 
agencies and for teleological action. Why may not those 
variations the accumulation of which the Darwinian nat- 
uralist supposes to have resulted in the formation of such 
structures as the eye, have been led along in this useful 
direction by an intending mind ? Indeed, why may not 
natural selection itself, and all it presupposes be a method 
through which a teleological agent attains is end ? Every- 
thing takes place under the operation of mechanical princi- 
ples, everything obeys causal law, but the causal, the mechan- 
ical, are not ultimate principles; they are methods through 
which ends are realized. The machine which made the 
paper on which I am writing doubtless explains the existence 
of this particular piece of paper; this sheet as to size, texture, 
lines, etc., could not have been other than it is, given the 
material of which it is composed and the sum total of the 



THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 147 

mechanically operative conditions to which that material 
was subjected. But surely this mechanical explanation does 
not exclude a teleological interpretation of the same fact. 
The mechanical in this instance must itself be teleologically 
explained; but for a purposive mind, the machine would 
not have been. The only point that is material, is that a 
purposive agency works through mechanical processes to 
the realization of an end, and in so doing subordinates the 
mechanical to the teleological." 

If it is objected, that we do not know the ends which this 
supposed cosmic mind has before it, while we do know to 
some extent the method of nature's working. Who can 
declare to us her intentions, her meaning, the ends she has 
in view ? The cautious teleologist, instructed by the la- 
mentable failures of the narrow teleology of the Eighteenth 
Century, will frankly confess we know nothing in detail 
about the teleological agency; whether it is intelligent in 
any respect after our human type or not, whether it possesses 
infinite intelligence or only finite intelligence, whether all 
powerful or of limited power only, whether good without 
admixture of moral imperfection or evil in some degree. 
Organic nature certainly does not reveal infinite intelligence 
or unlimited power or perfect goodness; nay, she gives but 
few indications of the being which is behind her wonderful 
but mysterious life; but the teleologist contends, that the 
ways of the cosmos, and in particular organic nature, dis- 
closes other than merely mechanical agencies. We carry 
into the world which surrounds and contains our human 
selves two assumptions or postulates; the postulate of uni- 
versal causal connection, mechanical regularity in the behavior 
of the cosmos, and the postulate of teleological processes; 



148 THE PROBLEM OF REALITY 

our experience in part verifies both, but in very unequal 
degrees and in quite a different meaning of the terms. 
If nothing more is meant by the mechanical character of 
the cosmos than the routine which we observe, and the 
universality of which we postulate, certainly both our com- 
mon experience and our empirical science bears out this 
postulate; we describe the universe in terms of causal trans- 
action and machine-like regularity; so far as we possess 
accurate, scientific knowledge that knowledge is in terms of 
this description. But this knowledge stops short of the goal 
of our desire to know our world; the nature of that whose 
phenomenal processes we have learned to formulate and 
describe by means of these abstract conceptions, the meaning 
of the deeper reality of the world, is the quest of our reason; 
and this deeper meaning can be expressed only in teleological 
terms. We can describe what merely is, or what comes 
to be, the manner of its coming to be, the observable pro- 
cesses which go on in it; but were the real world only that^ 
it would be meaningless and without value, just cosmic 
weather; the demand that the real world shall mean some- 
thing, that it shall have value or include values, be some- 
thing which can be appreciated as well as described, is deeper 
in our rational nature than is the want we satisfy by merely 
empirical science. 



PART II 
EPISTEMOLOGY 

CHAPTER VII 
THE DOCTRINE OF KNOWLEDGE 

In this part of our study we shall be mainly occupied with 
three theories of knowledge, three solutions of the problem 
which our cognitive experience presents. But before enter- 
ing upon an examination of these doctrines, we must first 
get • ourselves oriented with reference to these problems, 
and the different solutions which have been attempted. 

THE MEANING OF KNOWLEDGE 
The first question which naturally comes before us con- 
cerns the meaning of knowledge, what is it to know ? Our 
starting point shall be a provisional definition to this effect. 
Knowledge is the certainty that something is. This defini- 
tion brings into view a distinction which is fundamental to 
the meaning of knowledge. This distinction is that of 
knower, the knowing act or process, and the thing or object 
known. Knowing and someting known are ultimate and 
inseparable facts in our cognitive experience. We shall see 
that the central problem of knowledge concerns these two 
things and their relation to each other. Our definition 
gives us in the term certainty, the ultimate and irreducible 
fact on the side of the cognitive process or state. Psycho- 

149 



150 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

logical analysis, introspection, and definition can go no 
farther; when we know, we are certain; that term describes 
our mental state or states and is the differentia of cognitive 
experience. We can, I think, distinguish three kinds or 
modes of experience; we can characterize them by three ex- 
pressions which Mr. Ward has suggested: "I know some- 
what, I feel somehow, I do something." The cognitive, 
the f eeUng, and the willing functions or phases of our mental 
life are well marked off in this way. Now the term cer- 
tainty, being certain, undoubtedly differentiates the cogni- 
tive form of our mental life. 

But is all certainty knowledge? Whoever knows is 
certain; but does everyone who is certain also and for that 
reason know ? Is not the superstitious man, the fanatic, as 
certain as the calm thinker who can demonstrate the exis- 
tence of what he is certain of ? Nay, is not the sufferer from 
delirium certain of the existence of the objects which appall 
and torment him? Must we not therefore amend our 
tentative definition by adding something which enables us to 
distinguish knowledge-certainty from certainty which is 
not knowledge? Suppose we define knowledge as cer- 
tainty which rests upon objective grounds; by objective 
grounds we will mean a certainty which all minds could have 
in the same situation, a common certainty instead of a merely 
individual or private certainty. This criterion of knowledge 
certainty is empirical. In a given situation in which I 
might be certain, I could not determine whether my cer- 
tainty is knowledge-certainty, unless I was also certain that 
all minds in my situation would share my certainty; but how 
could I be certain of that fact ? Would I not need to use 
the same criterion again, in order to gain cognitive certainty 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 151 

of this third fact, and so on P Would I ever get the cognitive 
certainty of the first fact by this empirical criterion ? A 
cognitive certainty is doubtless one which all minds could 
feel in the same situation, or about the same matter; but the 
difficulty is to determine in any specific instance, whether or 
not we have that kind of certainty. 

Thus the criterion proposed seems to be entirely unser- 
viceable; it seems to commit us to an endless regress; the 
fact of which I can never be cognitively certain, is that my 
certainty is or can be universal. But may we not find the 
criterion of knowledge-certainty somewhere in the knowing 
process itself.? So that it may be possible for the knower 
to know that he knows ? May not the knowing process 
afford evidence of its own validity? It is customary in 
epistemology to distinguish two forms of knowledge, 
immediate and mediate. The former is direct, the latter 
indirect. In immediate knowledge, knower, knowing and 
thought and object known are, so to speak, face to face; 
they are in direct connection, in touch. This is the case 
in experience; to experience is to know; the experiencing is 
the knowing or gives directly or at first hand the knowledge. 
Thus I know my here and now, my present mind states and 
my immediate surroundings because I experience them. 
The certainty I have about these things is indefectible, and 
needs no justification. Mediate knowledge as the term im- 
plies, is brought about through an intermediary operation 
or process of which knowledge-certainty is the result, or ter- 
minus ad quern. The essence of both immediate and mediate 
certainty being knowledge, their difference is the way in 
which this certainty is produced. In immediate knowl- 
edge it comes directly out of experience, is the fruit of that 



152 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

experience. In mediate knowledge, the certainty is the 
outcome of a process or operation which starts with some 
datum of known fact, and working from that and upon that, 
issues in another fact. Now may it not be in this mediating 
operation, this intermediary process, that we find the 
criterion of knowledge-certainty.? This process is self 
certifying, and carries a warrant for the truth of the connec- 
tion in which it issues. For instance, a mathematician, 
after going through an operation of construction and reason- 
ing comes to a conclusion or result, of the truth of which he 
is absolutely certain; this complete certainty which does not 
permit him to think otherwise, has its source, its justifica- 
tion in the mental processes through which it is reached. In 
point of intensity and completeness, the mathematician's 
certainty is not greater or more compelling than is the 
certainty of the passionate religious believer; but do we not 
rightly say that the mathematician knows ? while of the 
other man we say that he believes but does not know ? 

This difference in the character of the certainty state in 
the two cases is clearly due to the difference in the sources 
and grounds of this certainty in each case. The religious 
believer's emotions, his desires, the yearnings of his heart, 
may be the sole cause of his perfect certainty that the object 
of his emotions, the satisfier of his desires and yearnings, 
exist; but we do not say the cause of this state of mind 
is also a justification of it, as we do say in the case of the 
mathematical thinker, that the cause of his being certain is 
also the justification of his being certain. But this point 
will come up again, when we are examining the theories of 
knowledge. 

Meantime we must deal with another problem growing 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 153 

out of our present undertaking, namely the problem of the 
object of knowledge. 

In knowing we know an object. Now the question which 
is raised by this fact is, is this object independent of our 
knowing act or process, so that our knowing and all the 
operations involved in knowing make no difference to this 
object, or is this object to some extent at least determined, 
made to be what it is, by the knowing process ? This ques- 
tion states the issue between two epistemological doctrines, 
epistemological realism and idealism. The realist asserts 
that things known may continue to exist when they are not 
known, or that things may pass into and out of the cognitive 
relation without prejudice to their reality. Things known 
are not products of the knowing relation, nor are they de- 
pendent for their existence and behavior upon that rela- 
tion. These two propositions state quite clearly the doctrine 
of epistemological realism, the essence of which is that know- 
ing, while it makes a difference to the knower, makes no dif- 
ference to the object known; the only thing we can do about 
reality in our cognitive behavior is to know that reality as 
it is, while it remains unaffected by our knowing it; we 
cannot both know and make a change in the thing we know, 
epistemological realism must not be confounded with the 
doctrine which is commonly called realism; that is a meta- 
physical doctrine; it maintains, as we have seen in the dis- 
cussion of dualism, that in perception the object perceived 
is non-mental in its nature. This non-mental nature of the 
object is an essentail part of metaphysical realism. For 
the epistemological realist, the object can be mental or 
psychical as well as material. A realistic epistemologist 
who should have observed Robinson Crusoe sitting in 



154 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

solitude upon his rock, would have had two sorts of objects 
both equally real, Robinson Crusoe's mind and the rock on 
which he was sitting. Epistemologically considered, these 
objects would have been real for the same reason. One 
thing more is important to an exact statement of the realist's 
position. The realist does not maintain that a real object 
cannot be changed by our action; he does not necessarily 
hold that reality is static and unchangeable; he admits that 
we alter and increase the reality of the world. What he 
maintains is that our cognitive action or knowing does not 
change or affect the existence and the nature of what we 
know. His contention is that were we merely knowers, our 
real world for us would never change. The supposed ob- 
server of Robinson Crusoe might doubtless have changed 
both the mental object and the material object of his knowl- 
edge; he might have persuaded Robinson to leave his rock, 
and he might have destroyed the rock with dynamite; but 
those operations would have been quite distinct from the 
cognitive process, though they might have gone on in very 
close connection with each other. 

In opposition to this view of the cognitive relation, the 
anti-realist maintains that the knowing process and the ob- 
ject known cannot stand in a relation in which one of the 
terms, the object, is independent of the other, the knowing 
act. No knowledge is conceivable if such be the relation 
between the kno wer and the thing to be known ; unless in 
manner, the cognitive process determines its object, un- 
less it works upon it and gives it a character, a significance 
in accordance with its own principles of working. He 
contends that the realist's object since it is independent 
of our cognitive thinking, cannot even be thought about; 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 155 

no conception or idea can be relevant to it; it can there- 
fore have no meaning, no definable content; and such 
an object, if we can call it an object, is absolutely un- 
knowable. This must sufiice for a statement of two doc- 
trines which grow out of the central problem of knowledge 
and which have come quite to the fore in recent epistemo- 
logical discussions. We shall come back to them for fuller 
discussion in connection with the three leading types of episte, 
mology, which await our study Before passing to this part 
of our task, however, I must briefly elucidate one more 
special problem, which is intimately connected with the 
problem of the object in knowledge; it is the problem of 
Truth. The problem relates to the meaning of truth. 
We shall do well to avoid for the present, the abstract term, 
truth, and state the fundamental question in concrete terms. 
Our question, therefore, becomes, what is a true idea, a 
true concept, a true assertion ? The ajective term, true is 
properly used, only as the predicate of an idea, a thought, 
a judgment, etc., and our question is, what is the meaning of 
this term so used? We shall later see that two leading 
doctrines in epistemology are sharply opposed by the an- 
swers they give to this apparently simple but really cardinal 
question. We shall also see that the answer one gives to this 
question, is determined by his conception of the nature and 
function of thinking, by his conception of the cognitive 
relation, and to some extent by his conception of being, or 
ultimate reality. 

Suppose that one is a realist, then he must mean by a true 
idea, one which agrees or corresponds to, or somehow copies 
its object. This is all our cognitive thinking can do about 
reality; it can in no wise determine the nature, the mode of 



156 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

existence or the relation the object shall sustain to our 
minds ; there is only one thing the knower can do (provided 
he really can do that) that is, to have a true idea of the 
object; his knowing consists in his consciously having such 
an idea. Just what it means or really is for an idea to agree 
with or correspond to an object, and especially the sort of 
object realism supposes, and how the would-be knower can 
tell when he has a true idea, are questions which we must 
face farther on. I raise them here merely to bring out the 
character and the significance of this question about the 
meaning of truth. The anti-realist, as we shall see, gives a 
different answer to this question. Our cognitive thinking, 
at all events, helps to make the object, and co-determines its 
meaning. Then a true idea has quite a different function, 
and sustains a different relation to its object, from the func- 
tion and its relation in the realist's doctrine. 

A few words upon the meaning of the substantive term, 
truth, and we are ready for the main business we have 
taken in hand. It will conduce to clearness and safeguard 
us from errors, if we keep in mind that truth is simply an 
abstract term, the connotation is determined by the conno- 
tation of the concrete term true; it is a convenient, general 
name for true ideas, true judgments, etc., and just as every 
abstract idea, it must always be reduced to this concrete 
connotation, if we want to avoid the tendency to make 
entities of abstract concepts, and treat them as objective 
realities. The concept, truth, is particularly exposed to 
this mistreatment; thus, we find it is made the object, the 
content, or the subject matter of knowledge. Now, to 
identify truth with the object in knowing, to use the term 
as synonymous with reality, creates confusion, and is seri- 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 157 

ously misleading; it would be better in our thinking and 
philosophical discussion, even at the cost of circumlocution, 
to avoid the use of this abstract term altogether. 

The various theories of knowledge can be reduced to three 
types: they are rationalistic or empirical or pragmatic. 
Rationalism is the oldest of these general theories and has 
the prestige of long tradition, and the support of great think- 
ers. Empiricism stands for the most part in antithesis 
to rationalism, and historically arose, in part, as a reaction 
from it, in part from the establishment of the modern 
physical sciences. Pragmatism is closely related to empiri- 
cism, shares with it an almost unqualified opposition to 
rationalism; but has important features in which it differs 
from empiricism. In its fundamental principle and spirit, 
pragmatism is not new, but as a developed theory of knowl- 
edge, it is of recent date, and just now may be said to be 
strongly in the field. 

We will begin our study with rationalism. I will first 
state the essential doctrine which all rationalists, however 
widely they differ on subordinate points, hold in common. 

I. RATIONALISM 

Rationalism is the doctrine which teaches that reason or 
thought is the source and affords the constructive principles 
of all knowledge. Reason or intellect operating in the form 
of self evident judgments, or by processes of reasoning 
which rest upon such judgments, is the creator of scientific 
knowledge. However much the mind may be affected by 
the action of objects upon our senses, however dependent 
our knowledge may be upon such affection of sense for 
stimulus and for data upon which thought acts, it is solely 



158 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

in virtue of its own self originated operations that the mind 
attains to knowledge. Sense experiences may supply the 
stimulus, the occasion, but knowledge is not born of experi- 
ence. Only as the data of experience are elaborated by a 
power that is quite other than sense or memory or imagina- 
tion, is there such a product as knowledge. The older 
rationalists concede that, without these a 'priori principles, 
we might possess knowledge of individual objects, and par- 
ticular truths about them, but they maintained that knowl- 
edge of particulars is contingent, and not entitled to be called 
true or scientific knowledge. The content of genuine knowl- 
edge are universal and necessary truths; and such knowledge 
is possible only if our reason itself, independent of all con- 
tingencies of experience, is the source of principles or judg- 
ments, which being self-evident, are the foundation of scien- 
tific knowledge. The whole body of scientific knowledge is 
possible only if there are principles of thought, which not 
being derived from experience, are valid for all possible 
experience. This statement covers, I think, all the essential 
points in the doctrine of rationalism. 

Proceeding now to an examination of this theory of knowl- 
edge, we note as the first important point the rationalistic 
conception of the knowing process. This process is purely 
intellectual thinking, following certain laws or regulative 
principles as the source of all knowledge which is not immedi- 
ate. Feeling and will do not enter into the cognitive process 
as such; all knowing is an affair of intellect: intellect is 
the source and intellect supplies the criterion and deter- 
mines the validity of knowledge; we penetrate reality, know 
its natu :e by our intellect. This is the sole organ of knowl- 
edge. The reality we know may afford us pleasure or pain. 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 159 

may excite our wonder, our admiration, or our aversion; 
it may call forth our love or provoke our hate, it may also 
call forth our active response. We may seek to possess it 
for practical uses; we may seek to change or destroy it; 
we may act toward it in all sorts of ways and suffer variously 
from it; but this object, this reality must first be our known 
object; and it is by intellect alone that it is our known object. 
Wants, hopes, fears, the demands of our active natures may 
dispose us, may compel us to believe this or that concerning 
the real world, but it is intellect alone which judges our be- 
liefs, decides upon their claims to truth. The right to be- 
lieve is determined by the intellect. The second point to 
be noted in the rationalist's theory is his conception of the 
cognitive relation. The rationalists before Kant were 
realists. Kant was the first to bring in an important modi- 
fication of rationalistic epistemology on this point of the 
object in knowledge. For the pre-Kantian rationalists 
the problem was to explain how there can be knowledge of 
an object which is independent of the knowing process. If 
the object is in no way determined by the knowing thought, 
how is the thought able to know it ? 

As we have seen, on this view of the object, the only rela- 
tion between the knower and the thing known is the relation 
of an idea to its object. The idea does not determine its 
object, the object remains unaffected by whatever the idea 
may do or intend; the only thing the idea can do, is to be 
true or fail of being true of its object; and this trueness of the 
idea we are told, is its agreement with, or correspondence to, 
the object. But what is it for an idea to agree with or corre- 
spond to an object ? Realistic rationalists have not until 
recently been aware that this question is pertinent and 



160 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

really serious for their theory. The difficulty involved has 
not been apparently perceived. Instead of defining truth 
as the agreement between thought and reality, let the 
truth mean the identity between the thing in fact which 
is asserted, and what really exists. My assertion is true if 
what I assert is as it is asserted. But the definition of truth 
in terms of assertion, evades rather than solves the difficulty. 
Some realists stay resolutely by the abstract definition and 
maintain that the terms agreement, correspondence, need no 
explanation; the definition is reduced to its simplest terms 
already. But is there not a real difficulty here which the 
epistemologists of this class have not rightly faced ? We have 
no difficulty when we are seeking for correspondence, agree- 
ment between two objects, two spatial figures or two series 
of numbers, etc., in defining our meaning. But can agree- 
ment, correspondence mean the same thing when one of the 
things compared is an idea or thought ? In what way or in 
what intelligible sense of the term can an idea agree with, 
correspond to, an object which by supposition is nothing to 
this idea, is wholly independent of it? This question can 
hardly be dismissed as idle or captious. It brings to light 
a serious difficulty, which the upholders of reahstic 
rationalism do not appear to have recognized. But let us 
suppose this difficulty is removed and we have a clear concep- 
tion of this truth relation between idea and object. The 
question then comes, how is this agreement between idea and 
object, between our thought and reality brought about ? 
The idea does nothing to make the object agree with it; the 
object does nothing to the idea to make it agree with itself; 
how then do they come into agreement ? Our thinking 
follows its laws, and things independent of our thinking 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 161 

follow their own laws; how explain their agreement ? Inter- 
action being excluded there seems to be but one explanation, 
pre-established harmony as in the case of Leibniz's monads; 
it must be assumed that our minds on the one side are so 
constituted, and the real world on the other side is so con- 
stituted, that there is a parallelism between them. The 
basis of this parallelism of thought and the world have to 
be sought in the nature of being. 

But, waiving this difficulty, another one meets us; it re- 
lates to our possible knowledge of the object. Granted that 
I have a true idea of a given object, say conditions on the 
planet Mars, I do not yet know that fact, unless I know or 
am certain that my idea is true. Now how can I possess 
this certainty? How can I tell whether my idea is true or 
false ? There is only one way in which this knowledge 
would seem to be possible; there must be something in my 
idea itself, which affords the infallible sign of its truth, some- 
thing in my mind must authenticate my thinking, something 
analogous to a bell that rings, when one has hit the target. 
The most consistent of the older rationalists boldly main- 
tained this self -evidence of truth, this criterion of knowledge 
within the idea itself. "For a man to say," declares Spinoza, 
*'that he has an adequate idea and yet he does not know 
whether that idea is true or false, is the same as to say that 
he has an idea, yet does not know whether he has an idea or 
not." Spinoza's way of facing this difficulty is the only one 
for a consistent rationalist of the older type; an heroic ex- 
pedient but a fatal one. It was this failure of the earlier 
rationalists to explain knowledge and truth which led Kant 
to abandon its realistic epistemology, and in a large measure 
its realistic metaphysics. 



162 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

But may not the realistic rationalist overcome this diffi- 
culty by the following expedient; namely, Treat the given 
idea as an hypothesis and develop the consequences which 
follow if the idea is true; then a comparison between the 
consequences and the already know facts will afford the 
criterion of knowledge. Thus my present idea of the planet 
Mars is now true or false. Let me suppose the idea is true. 
Then if Mars is as I think it, certain phenomena should be 
observed, it should behave in a certain way, other facts in 
the planetary system should be observed; now suppose sub- 
sequent observation discovers all of these deduced from the 
supposed conception of Mars; and, let us further suppose 
that no other conception of Mars will lead to the facts; 
should I not be justified in holding my idea to be true ? In 
other words, would I not have attained the knowledge that 
my idea was true ? If so, then it would seem possible for the 
realist to verify his ideas, or to know that they are true; or 
failing to verify them, know that they fail of being true. 
Of course, this verification is a thing of degrees, it can be 
slight, barely enough to establish just a probability; it can be 
complete and the probability of truth would then be close to 
certainty, so close as to exclude any serious or significant 
doubt. This expedient might afford the realist a solution 
of his difficulty; but it would not be available for a realist 
who was also a rationalist. Thoroughgoing and consistent 
rationalism cannot admit experience as an element in knowl- 
edge. It can accept no criterion of knowledge derived from 
experience. The method of verification suggested would 
contradict the fundamental principles of rationalism. The 
older rationalists were quite aware of this fact; and hence 
rationalistic philosophy has never recognized the method of 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 163 

hypothesis in knowledge; for the method is essentially 
empirical. 

But the rationalist philosopher need not be a realist in 
his epistemology. Since the time of Kant the great rational- 
ists have rejected that doctrine. Beginning with Kant an 
idealistic epistemology has prevailed in the main tradition of 
philosophy. The essence of epistemological idealism is 
that the knowing process determines the object. To some 
extent, at least, it creates this object, or if it does not in 
proper meaning of the term create its object, it so far pre- 
determines its character, as to place the criterion of knowl- 
edge within the knowing process. Now, it is possible to 
admit that thought or the knowing process does not create 
or predetermine all that is real, all that pertains to the object 
and yet to maintain that this knowing process does create or 
predetermine reality so far as we know it at all. The 
residuum of reality which does not come within the sphere 
of knowledge, we may distinguish as thing in itself, or things 
in themselves; and consequently, the objects we know are 
phenomena. The substance of this view is, that our know- 
ing thought creates, predetermines the reality it knows; but 
there is reality which it does not determine and therefore, 
does not know. 

It is also possible to maintain that knowing-thought and 
reality are coextensive; that all that is real is known by the 
same knower, is that knower's object, and is wholly created 
or predetermined by that knowing process. Clearly we 
have here two points of view and two forms of idealistic 
rationalism, determined by the point of view taken. In one 
of these forms of rationalism, the point of view taken is our 
human intelligence, assumed to be finite and which does not 



164 THE PROBLEM OP KNOWLEDGE 

in its knowing transcend its finiteness. The point of view in 
the other doctrine is that of an Absolute Mind, an AU- 
Knower of which our human minds are assumed to be finite 
parts, fragmentary portions, in essence identical with one 
all inclusive and containing mind, only different as the part 
or the fragment differs from the whole, the partial from the 
complete, the imperfect from the perfect. Hence, what this 
Absolute Thinker thinks, what he knows, is identical with 
that which our human, partial, and fragmentary minds 
would think and know, were they simply made complete and 
perfect. So far as we know, we know reality as it is, and 
not as it appears. I have thus outlined two typical forms 
of idealistic rationalism. The difference between these 
doctrines is important enough to justify a more particular 
study. I shall therefore select two philosophers as repre- 
sentatives of these epistemological doctrines. Kant is the 
representative of the doctrine which makes our human mind 
the only knower. I select Professor Royce as the best repre- 
sentative of the doctrine which makes an Absolute Mind the 
knower. 

II. KANT'S THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE 

We will first study the rationalism of Kant, which is con- 
tained in the famous Critique of Pure Reason and also in 
Prologomena to Metaphysics. Kant began his philosophical 
career an othodox rationalist. His earlier writings give no 
hint that he did not find that doctrine satisfactory. But the 
time came when, despite the natural conservatism of his 
mind, he no longer accepted the rationalism in which he had 
been bred. He was forced to recognize a contradiction be- 
tween traditional rationalism and what he regarded as the 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 165 

indispensable facts of the world. Kant was too thorough 
and too appreciative a student of the new science of nature 
to question its claims to actual knowledge; and between the 
teachings of science and the rationalism he had held, there 
were discrepancies he could not remove; and science had dis- 
closed facts for which rationalism could give no explanation. 
One of these facts was the behavior of two physical bodies, 
meeting each other in motion. Kant saw that the natural 
law of contradiction did not explain the behavior of these 
two bodies; indeed, this law was distinctly contradicted by 
the fact of action and reaction. The significance of this 
single discovery was momentous for Kant; for he saw in it 
an irreconcilable contradiction between his hitherto accepted 
theory of knowledge and the real world as physical science 
was revealing it. Kant soon made other discoveries which 
brought him to the point of definitive abandonment of tra- 
ditional rationalism. It was clear to him that rationalism 
did not explain our knowledge of nature. Kant could as 
little question the existence of a science of nature as the ex- 
istence of the science of mathematics; and his rejection of 
traditional rationalism was because it completely failed to 
explain this science. Kant formulated the problem of 
knowledge in the two questions. How is science of mathe- 
matics possible? How is the science of nature possible? 
Now, the substance of the famous Critique of Pure Reason is 
the answer to these two questions. Kant's originality lay in 
his way of answering these questions. Kant distinctly 
claimed that no one before him had taken the path he had 
entered; that no philosopher had solved these two problems. 
Rationalism had accepted mathematics, nay, made it the 
type of true knowledge; but rationalists had not solved the 



166 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

problem of this science, had not given the right answer to the 
question, How is the science of mathematics possible? 
Rationalism, of course, could make nothing out of the 
science of nature — much less solve the problem it presented. 
The empirical philosophers, Locke and Hume, while they 
accepted with the rationalists the science of mathematics, 
could not answer the question, how is such a science possible ? 
And as to a science of nature, this they distinctly denied. 
Locke had expressly asserted, we possess no scientific knowl- 
edge of nature, and Hume's doctrine had come to the same 
result. Now, against both the rationalists who had pre- 
ceded him and against the empiricists whom he at one time 
seemed to be on the point of following, Kant asserts the 
equal validity of these two sciences, and undertook to ex- 
plain their possibility. It has been objected that Kant had 
no right to assume the fact of a science of nature; his first 
question should have been, is a science of nature possible ? 
Not how is such a science possible. Kant's answer to this 
objection would probably have been "In explaining how a 
science of nature is possible, I have at the same time estab- 
lished the fact of this science." 

The presupposition of Kant's epistemology was that the 
problem of our human knowledge had before him not been 
rightly understood, much less solved. It is to this fact that 
Kant attributed the deplorable state into which metaphysics, 
at one time the queen of sciences, had fallen. It was both 
distrusted and despised. Philosophy can regain her former 
respect and authority, only if a new foundation can be given 
it, and that foundation is the solution of the problem of 
knowledge. Now one reason why Kant's rationalistic 
predecessors had failed to solve the problem of knowledge. 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 167 

was the realistic assumption regarding the object in knowl- 
edge, and consequently their wrong conception of the nature 
and the function of knowledge. They had assumed that the 
aim of knowledge was in some manner to copy or reproduce 
in the mind, objects which exist wholly independent of the 
knowing process, things in themselves. The only function 
of our minds in relation to such objects, must be to copy 
them, or reproduce them in the form of ideas or judgments. 
Hume had drawn the right conclusion from this conception 
of knowledge; he had shown that even did an agreement be- 
tween our thought and objects of this kind exist, there is no 
way in which we could be rationally certain of it; and con- 
sequently we possess only a knowledge of ideas, no actual 
knowledge of matter of fact. The rationalistic criterion of 
truth is merely subjective, it can merely tell us whether or 
not our ideas are consistent with each other, whether or not 
they are formally true, never whether or not these ideas are 
objectively true. Now Kant frankly admitted that, upon 
the assumption that things in themselves are the objects of 
our knowledge, the problem of knowledge is insoluble, and 
Hume's scepticism was unanswerable. 

But, just in this realistic conception of knowledge lay the 
root error of preKantian rationalism. Against this doc- 
trine Kant maintained that the objects of our knowledge, the 
field of science, the real world which it is the aim of science 
to know, is not a realm which lies beyond the limits of ex- 
perience, occupied by so-called things in themselves; the 
objects we know, the only objects we can know, are objects 
of possible experience, not objects out of relation to experi- 
ence; there are no such objects. By objects of possible 
experience, Kant means objects which exist in, as well as for, 



168 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

our experience, objects which are presentable under condi- 
tions of experience, and are definable in terms of experience; 
as to content, they do not differ from Berkeley's objects of 
perception; they are actual and possible sense perceptions, 
groups of sensibles. Thus, does Kant introduce a profound 
modification in the doctrine of rationalism, with the impor- 
tant consequence that he incorporates a part of the opposing 
doctrine of empiricism, namely, that experience is essential 
to our knowledge, that it affords the test of validity, and 
determines the limits of our knowledge. 

The second error Kant discovered in the older rationalism, 
was the conception of the source and method of our human 
knowledge. But empiricism was likewise in error on the 
same point. On the side of rationalism, the error related to, 
the nature, the function of thought in knowledge; on the 
side of empiricism, there was an erroneous conception of the 
function of experience in the production of knowledge. 
Rationalism had maintained that thought alone, operating 
in accordance with its own immanent principles, creates its 
knowledge; and it rejected experience as a source or factor 
in knowledge. The empiricist had maintained that experi- 
ence alone is the original source of knowledge; all our 
human knowledge is from experience was the dictum of em- 
piricism. The empiricist denied that thought is an orig- 
inal source of knowledge. Now Kant found a measure of 
truth in each of these hitherto antagonistic doctrines; each 
doctrine was in part right in what it affirmed, and in part 
wrong in what it denied. With the rationalist, Kant asserted 
that thought is an original and indispensable element or 
factor in knowledge; with the empiricist, Kant held that with- 
out experience, and apart from experience we possess no 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 169 

knowledge; experience is an original and indispensable 
factor in knowledge. Kant's solution of the knowledge 
problem unites the part truths in both these doctrines, neither 
of which by itself is true. Neither thought alone, nor ex- 
perience alone give knowledge; both must be united as co- 
operant factors, if we are to explain knowledge. The 
rationalist was right in his insistence upon a universal in 
knowledge. It is the function of thought to supply this 
constituent. But it is true also, that our knowledge must 
have matter of fact, concrete reality in its objects, other- 
wise it is formal only; experience alone can supply the 
matter of knowledge, or rather matter as the data for knowl- 
edge; this was the truth in the doctrine of empiricism. 

We must therefore (to follow Kant) recognize two distinct 
and original sources of knowledge, and assume that though 
different in their natures, they cooperate in the production of 
knowledge; our knowledge is due to a synthesis of these two 
principles. Kant claimed that the analysis of knowledge 
discloses the cooperation or synthesis of these two functions ; 
one he calls sense, the other understanding. Sense supplies 
two constituents, matter of sensation, which he calls intuition 
and two forms of synthesis of the mainf old of sense, which he 
calls intuitions of space and time. The understanding 
furnishes the formative, constructive, and regulative prin- 
ciples of knowledge; these form giving and moulding prin- 
ciples Kant called the categories. They are such concepts 
as substance, number, quantity, cause, etc. These thought 
functions, taken apart from the matter supplied by sensation, 
can give no knowledge of objects, any more than a paper- 
making machine can make paper without pulp, or a loom 
weave a fabric without raw material which can be fashioned 



170 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

into the patterns. On the other side sense experience with- 
out thought, can give no knowledge; for sense experience 
furnishes the raw materials for knowledge; and but for the 
operation of thought, this material would remain raw ma- 
terial; just as the material of the paper would remain pulp, 
if it were not taken up and wrought into paper. " Intuition 
without understanding is blind and understanding without 
intuition is empty," said Kant. Thus, by a process 
crudely analogous to that of weaving cloth by a loom, does 
Kant suppose the consituent factors, thought and sense are 
woven into the fabric of knowledge. Of course, the differ- 
ence between the mind and a machine working upon dead 
matter is very great; but as Kant seems to look at the matter, 
there is about as little inner connection between understand- 
ing and sense, as there is between the loom and its fixed 
patterns and the raw materials of which the cloth is made. 
Our thought never supplies the matter of its objects; and 
this sensation matter never takes form of itself; how these 
are brought together, how this peculiar synthesis of things 
which in their natures are assumed to be so unlike, Kant 
does not, I think explain. 

But in order to make clearer Kant's meaning, and to bring 
out the particularity of his epistemology, I will take one or 
two concrete illustrations. Let us take first the perception 
of an object. We have two classes of elements which enter 
into the formation of this object, (1) sensations, cold, pres- 
sure, smell, taste, etc. (2) a certain order or arrangement 
and connection which this matter, these sensations assume, 
and must assume in order to become an individual object. 
One of these form elements is space; the sensations of them- 
selves do not give this form or order of arrangement; by 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 171 

themselves they are a chaotic manifold. This space form 
is given to the matter of sensation by the mind, just as the 
particular pattern or design is in the loom, not in the material 
which is fashioned by it. Again it is not in the sensation 
matter, the raw material, that we find the unity-giving 
principle, the synthetic unity whereby the mass of sensations 
becomes one individual thing; this unity-giving function 
belongs to the mind, the understanding. In its pure form 
it is the logical category of unity, and of subject. This 
individual object is consequently the product of the coopera- 
tion of these two in their natures different factors; sensations 
and the form-giving and individualizing principle supplied 
by the understanding. 

Take next an example of causal connection. If we 
analyze this experience, we find two facts; one is the succes- 
sion of perceptions, which may be the perceptions of the 
individual mind and may be a reversible succession; the 
other fact is that of a succession in time which is not that of 
an individual mind only, but of all minds; an objective 
succession in time. Now in order to know a causal connec- 
tion between two phenomena, I must know that the suc- 
cession in time is objective; the succession in time must be a 
necessary one. Such a knowledge and such a fact is possible 
only if my mind supplies for itself the necessary condition 
of such a succession, and that condition is the logical cate- 
gory of condition and consequence, which is contained in the 
hypothetical judgment, if A is then B is. Only as the sense 
impressions are brought under the thought-law or form, can 
I know such a thing as an objective succession in time, in 
other words causal connection; for causal connection is 
objective succession in time. The knowledge of causal 



172 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

connection is not derived from experience as empiricism 
teaches; it is possible only if there is brought to experience, 
a thought principle by means of which experience is brought 
into this form of connection. 

Thus does Kant explain the structure of our knowledge. 
The limitation of our knowledge is a corallary from the 
doctrine of its nature. Experience being a necessary con- 
dition of knowledge, sense function being one of its factors, 
the limitation of knowledge to experience follows inevitably. 
Experience is the field of possible knowledge; where that 
field terminates there our knowledge ceases. On this point 
of the extent of knowledge, Kant is at one with the empiri- 
cists and against the rationalists, who maintained that our 
knowledge transcends the bounds of possible experience. 
True it is that our thoughts transcend these limits of ex- 
perience; but thought without matter supplied by sense, gives 
no knowledge. We can, indeed, form conceptions of objects 
which cannot be given in experience, such are things in 
themselves; we can conceive of beings who do not exist 
under the conditions of experience, who do not know the 
forms of space, time, and the categories which are regulative 
for our knowledge. Such are noumenal beings, God, our 
moral selves, and their free action. Moreover, in the in- 
terests of our moral life, which is the supreme reality, our 
reason postulates real existences which answer to these ideal 
concepts; but it remains true that we do not possess knowl- 
edge of the realities, we necessarily conceive and postulate; 
for they cannot be given as objects of possible experience, 
they cannot be determined, or defined by means of the 
categories, the function of which is limited to experience 
Theoretically taken the ideal of God, of absolute being, of 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 173 

unconditioned first cause, etc., have only regulative value: 
they are not constitutive of knowledge. By means of these 
ideals we can give systematic completeness to our knowledge 
of the world of experience; but to take these ideas as exist- 
ences is fallacious. There is no theoretic need of postulating 
their objective reality; and there is no way in which it is 
possible to demonstrate their objective existence. 

Now Kant maintains that, to admit things in themselves, 
while we confess that we do not have knowledge of their 
nature, is no contradiction; nor is the conception of such 
objects as these ideal beings, a useless excise of our reason, 
an idle fancy. The recognition of things in themselves is 
absolutely essential to the explanation of knowledge. They 
supply the matter of sensation, without which no knowl- 
edge is possible. Moreover, it is important that we recog- 
nize reality which is not subject to the conditions of our 
knowledge; it is important to remind ourselves that our 
human modes of cognition may not be the only form of 
knowledge; and most important of all is the fact that since 
the interest of conduct or morality is the supreme interest, 
it is imperatively necessary to postulate reality which tran- 
scends experience, and therefore the limits of our knowledge. 
Now, were it not possible or legitimate to think such objects 
as God, freedom, immortality, our rational nature would 
indeed be at war with itself; for our reason as practical 
postulates these objects; and if we could not think them 
without contradiction, belief in them would be irrational, 
and absolute doubt be the inevitable result. But now, our 
moral faith is justified, our right to believe cannot be denied. 
In Kant's esteem, it was a great merit, a great achievement 
of his doctrine, that while it establishes the exact bounds of 



174 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

our knowledge, at the same time it saves our faith, Kant 
declared that he had taken away knowledge that he might 
save faith, by which he meant he had destroyed a spurious 
claim to Knowledge beyond the limits of possible experience- 
It was the dogmatic assertion of this knowledge which had 
provoked scepticism; for the sceptic challenged this claim; 
and had only to instance the conflicting doctrines of the 
rationalists, the disputes among themselves, to feel justified 
in his denial of this knowledge. But the sceptic was no less 
dogmatic in his denial of the possibility of tliis trans-experi- 
ence-knowledge, than was the rationalist in his assertion 
of it. Kant claimed to have put to silence both the sceptic 
and the dogmatist; and in this way he had saved moral 
faith. It seemed to Kant that he had clearly separated the 
two spheres, that of knowledge and that of faith, so that 
henceforth one could render to science the things that be- 
long to science and to faith the things that belong to faith. 
There can be no quarrel between science and faith; for 
science does not deny the reality of what it does not know 
and faith does not ask that her realities shall be scientifically 
known; she asks only the right to believe; and science cannot 
deny this right. 

I have now set forth in its main lines the epistemology of 
Kant. It would be the more natural order to pass to the 
epistemology of Royce, who I have said is the best repre- 
sentative of the other type of rationalistic epistemology. 
But it will be more advantageous, first to present the 
epistemology of empiricism; and from the empirical 
point of view to suggest a criticism of Kant's doctrine of 
Knowledge. 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 175 

III. THE EMPIRICAL THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE 
Accordingly I will set forth an empirical theory of knowl- 
edge which in the main follows the constructive lines of 
Hume's philosophy as that is presented in the Treatise on 
Human Nature and in the Enquiry concerning Human 
Understanding. The fundamental proposition of empiri- 
cism had been laid down by Locke. All our knowledge is 
derived from experience. Hume, following the main lines 
of Locke's epistemology, sets out with an analysis of experi- 
ence, with a view to finding the sources, the elementary con- 
stituents, the first things in the way of knowledge. It was 
clear to Hume's mind that if it is to be maintained that all 
knowledge is from experience, it is first of all necessary 
accurately to understand what experience is, what are its 
constituent elements, its orginial content. The problem is 
at the outset a psychogenetic one; it relates to the origin of 
the earliest state of our knowledge. How does knowledge 
begin ? is a question which must precede the question, How 
is our knowledge constituted? An examination of experi- 
ence is therefore the first step in the solution of the problem 
of knowledge. 

In this analysis Hume finds that the ultimate source, the 
elementary constituents of knowledge are impressions of 
sense; these impressions and not things or qualities, produc- 
ing these impressions, are the beginning of our knowledge, 
the content of original experience. Locke had said all 
knowledge begins in sensation; but with Locke sensation 
contained two things, sensation matter, color, pressure, 
light, smell, etc., and something which itself is not a sen- 
sation, but a material thing or its quality producing the 
sensation, something sensed in the sensation, something ex- 



176 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

perienced in our first experience. Hume rejected this really 
trans-experience thing, and made impressions the sole con- 
tent of our original experience. Whether or not there are 
such beings as Locke's material substance, or Berkeley's 
world spirit, to which our sensations are to be referred, Hume 
neither affirmed nor denied. This further question as to 
the ultimate source of our experience, Hume maintains, ad- 
mits of no positive answer. For the explanation of our 
knowledge, we do not need to concern ourselves with such 
speculative problems. Our experience being what it is, we 
should add nothing to its meaning, did we in some way 
know how we came to have such experience. Impressions 
are consequently all we have for the stuff out of which our 
knowledge is made. 

In addition to these sensation contents of experience, we 
have as the second class of constituents of knowledge, 
ideas. These are not absolutely first things, they are not 
data of experience, but derivative or secondary in the order 
of genesis. In their simplest form, ideas are copies of im- 
pressions, they are mental things which stand for and repre- 
sent what has been or can be, impressions of sense, or feeling 
of some sort. Viewed in their relation to experience con- 
tent, ideas are either copies or representatives of what has 
been experience content, in which case they are memories 
or they may image or represent what is possible experience, 
in which case they are imagination ideas. In respect to 
their structure, ideas are simple or complex. Simple ideas 
are copies or representatives of the simplest content of 
experience. Complex ideas are formed by combination 
with more or less modification of simple ideas. They can 
image or represent an indefinite number of individual 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 177 

objects or masses of experience content, of indefinite ex- 
tent and complexity. Again, in respect to their function, 
ideas are individual or general. An idea is individual if it 
represents what we call a single thing, or a unit of some sort. 
An idea is general if it represents an infinite number of 
individual things. 

One more distinction between ideas must be noted, that 
of concrete and abstract. A concrete idea is one which 
represents an experience content, which we call a thing or 
object, and think of as so existing. An abstract idea 
represents any one or more qualities, when considered apart 
from the thing itseK. 

So much for the meaning and the various kinds of ideas. 
We will next follow the empiricist's explanation of the func- 
tion of ideas, the role they play in our knowledge. Ideas 
being copies or representatives of experience, actual or pos- 
sible, they can be substituted for experience, they can func- 
tion in the place of experience, for what is past, for what 
may be expected, for the experience of an individual or 
for common experience. Ideas are thus instruments for 
enlarging and making practically serviceable our knowledge. 
Ideas are thus indirectly cognitive; we could not by means 
of them know what has not been or could not be matter of 
experience; they never carry us beyond experience, but with- 
in that field they are of immense service, of indispensable 
mportance; but for them knowledge would be only of the 
flying moment, just a this, now, a meaningless fragment. 
The whole organization and extension of knowledge is the 
work of ideas. To understand, however, this function of 
ideas, it is necessary to note a third class of elementary con- 
stituents, or constructive principles of experience. These 



178 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

are relations and connections of various sorts between the 
parts of our experience. Our experience does not consist of 
isolated or disconnected things, but of things connected 
with other things; we experience not merely impressions 
or things, but relations between them. Relation is not 
something that is brought into experience ab extra; it is an 
intrinsic thing, a part of experience. Relations are experi- 
enced with the things related. They are as truly a part of 
the given — ^the content of experience — as are the things 
between which they exist. A and B, A after B, A greater 
than B, like or unlike B, are the experienced facts, the 
empirical reality. Relations therefore are original content 
of experience no less than the related things. So we 
have also ideas of relations apart from the objects which 
are connected by them; then we have ideas of likeness, 
succession, continuity, etc. Not all these connections in 
Experience are original. Some are of later origin and are 
due to those processes by which complex and abstract 
ideas are framed; such for instance is the relation of 
cause and effect, the explanation of which is Hume's most 
important contribution to epistemology. Now, inasmuch 
as our ideas cover these relational parts of our experience, 
it can readily be seen how important is their role in the 
building up and organization of our knowledge. We 
can comprehend the power of our ideas in enlarging the 
range of knowledge and practical activity, the enormous 
economy they enable us to practice, since they are to a 
large extent abstract and have an essentially symbolic 
function, like numbers, signs, etc. This function of ideas 
as substitutes for experience, and as economical devices is 
analogous to the use of cheques in business transactions. 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 179 

A cheque is a substitute for so much actual cash; but it is 
not necessary to cash a cheque in order to use it; it is only 
necessary that it should be cashable. So with an idea, 
its cash value in experience, we do not need to obtain, it 
can be used for the experience, and with an enormous gain 
in efficiency and saving in time. As in business, so in our 
knowledge, most of the transactions are by cheques and by 
credit statements. But the empiricist reminds us, that 
it is just as important to keep in mind that every idea should 
be reducible to concrete experience as that every cheque 
should be good for its face value in cash. 

But, fully to explain the organization of experience or 
empirical knowledge, it is necessary to take note of two 
principles which operate to give to experience its persistent 
character, its solidity and stubbornness, against tendencies ot 
change, its consistent character. These principles are habit 
and association. One of the most conspicuous features of ex- 
perience is its routine character, its tendency to persist in 
whatever state it occurs, in whatever direction it takes; 
custom is the name Hume gives to this character of our 
experience. The law of habit is, the same experience tends 
to recur in the same context, and this tendency is strength- 
ened by repetition. This holds true not only of the sub- 
stantive part of experience but of the relational parts also. 
Not only does the content A tend to recur, but if A has been 
followed by B in prior experiences, or coexisted with B, 
this relational experience tends to recur, and this relation 
of conjunction in experience is affected by repetition in like 
manner as are other parts of experience. 

Association is the second principle under which experi- 
ence acquires its definite, coherent, and stable structure. 



180 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

Association itself is based upon the more extensive law of 
habit. The law of association is, if two or more things 
have formed parts of the same total experience, the recurrence 
of any one of them in a subsequent experience tends to recall 
the others. This associative connection is strengthened by 
repetition and habit: it may be strong and persistent without 
having become habitual; recency, intensity, and other cir- 
cumstances of original experience, strengthen the associative 
connection. This principle of association is the basis of 
memory and expectation. It is also the principle of dis- 
cursive inference or reasoning upon matters of fact. 

Association based upon habit is the main source and ex 
planation of our beliefs. Belief is the manner in which 
ideas are present to, and are entertained by our minds. 
To have an idea of something and to believe this same thing 
differ only in the manner in which the same object is pres- 
ent in experience. Belief adds nothing to the meaning 
or content of the idea; my belief that I have a hundred 
dollars in my pocket adds nothing to the content of my idea 
of my having this sum of money there. But in the case of 
my belief I cherish this idea in a different way; the idea is 
present in a different manner, and has for its associates 
quite different feelings and dispositional tendencies. This 
lively, vivid, warm, and firm manner in which certain ideas 
exist, is the essence of belief; and the differential of belief 
are the accessories and associated experience states. It is 
consequently clear that association strengthened by habit, 
is the foundation of belief : for in belief the mind is carried 
from some present fact to some other fact that is present 
in an idea; and that which carries the mind to the other 
fact is association. Now whenever a firm association is es- 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 181 

tablished between two things, one of which is a present fact 
of experience, which we always entertain with the sense of 
reahty, we entertain the associated thing (present as idea) 
with the same feeling of reality; and that as we have seen 
is the essence of belief. Now our beliefs are a large part 
of our experience; they constitute the cognitive significance 
of experience. In varying degrees of strength, ranging from 
slight probability to the most intense and unshaken con- 
victions, our beliefs are the warp and woof of our knowl- 
edge, and construct for us the real world. Our real world 
is coextensive with our experience; experience which has 
been, which is now, and that which we expect. The content 
of our knowledge of the real world are our beliefs. Hence, 
to explain our knowledge, our science of matters of fact, is to 
explain our beliefs. When we have explained our beliefs 
we have reached the limits of our knowledge; we have solved 
that problem so far as the solution is in our power. Our 
knowledge is wholly experiential, its source is experience, 
the knowing itself is a process of experience; the cognitive 
process essentially consists in the linking of one portion of 
experience to another. In this process, ideas play the role 
of intermediaries; and inasmuch as ideas function in the 
place of active experience, the cognitive connections are be- 
tween ideas, as well as between experience portions. Now 
since an idea is only a substitute for experience, experience 
content is the only object an idea can have; and consequently 
the truth of an idea is its agreement with experience, and 
not with an object that is independent of experience, a trans- 
experience object such as realism assumes. Just here 
Locke fell into a fatal embarrassment in his conception of 
knowledge. His definition of knowledge made it consist in 



182 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

the perception of the agreement between two ideas. This 
definition was inconsistent with other parts of his doctrine, 
particularly his doctrine of material substance, and of pri- 
mary qualities of material objects. Locke was forced to 
modify his definition so as to cover the simple ideas of sen- 
sation; for as he maintained, the truth of these ideas con- 
sists in their agreement with material reality, i.e., with 
something which is not an idea. Now, had Locke been 
consistent with the fundamental doctrine of his empiricism, 
he would not have been entangled in this difiiculty. But 
Locke unfortunately retained a part of the realistic ration- 
alism of Descartes. And that prevented his seeing that the 
cognitive relation is not between an idea and a reality which 
is different from the idea and alien to it, but between two 
experiences, or between an idea and an experience, or be- 
tween two ideas, since ideas are the equivalent of experience. 

I have thus in as brief a compass as seemed possible, 
presented the epistemology of empiricism. It will, I trust, 
aid the student in a better comprehension of both this 
doctrine and the idealistic epistemology of Kant, if I bring 
the two doctrines into comparison. This comparison I can 
best make by means of an imaginary dialogue between 
Hume and Kant. I will suppose that Hume had lived to 
read the Critique of Pure Reason, and had fallen in with 
Kant and the following discussion occurred between them. 

Hume: I have read with the greatest interest and appre- 
ciation your truly immortal Critique of Pure Reason, and I 
am naturally gratified to find that between your doctrine 
and mine, there does not appear to be a difference of any 
importance. You no less clearly and emphatically than I, 
teach that our knowledge is limited to experience. You no 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 183 

less emphatically than I reject the claim to a knowledge of 
such trans-experience realities as material substances, the 
soul as a spiritual substance, God as an infinite, uncon- 
ditioned being. 

Kant: I fear you have not carefully read my book, or 
you would have seen that the difference between our doc- 
trines is a profound one. Your doctrine takes away all 
true knowledge within the field of experience, while my 
doctrine establishes knowledge. I not only establish knowl- 
edge but I also delimit the field of knowledge; while you 
establish no knowledge and you leave the boundaries hazy 
and confused. Your doctrine denies that there are principles 
of thought, which not being derived from experience are in- 
dependent of experience for their validity. Now unless 
there are such a priori functions as I have discovered, no 
such thing as true knowledge is possible. In your doc- 
trine there are only impressions of sense, their paler copies, 
ideas, merely contingent connection between these im- 
pressions and ideas ; these connections made more or less firm 
by habit ^r blind custom. These are the only constructive 
principles your theory assumes. Now with such principles 
only it is impossible to construct or explain our knowledge. 

I have shown that only principles and judgments that 
are universal and necessary, can be the foundation of scienti- 
fic knowledge. Now you teach that we have no principles 
or judgments of this character, that no connections be- 
tween things are necessary; you thereby abandon the claim 
to scientific knowledge. Take that connection which you 
admit is the foundation of all scientific knowledge, nay of 
all reasoning on matters of fact, cause and effect. This 
you claim to have shown is not a law of thought, not a truth 



184 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

of reason, but a customary conjunction of experience; the 
only necessity that attaches to it being the bhnd propension 
of our minds to generalize from experience, and to expect 
that like antecedents will be followed by like consequents. 
Your doctrine of causation takes away the corner stone of sci- 
ence, nay of all knowledge. To sum up on this point, The dif- 
ference between us is this, I have saved knowledge from pos- 
sible scepticism, you have involved all knowledge in doubt. 
Hume: If you have indeed demonstrated the existence 
of such non-empirical principles, and have also demon- 
strated the manner of their operation in the making of our 
knowledge, I grant you have established universal and neces- 
sary truths about matters of fact; But have you in fact 
achieved this momentous result? There are three con- 
ceivable ways in which the existence of such a 'priori con- 
structive principles in our knowledge can be proved. (1) 
Either by direct inspection we must find them in our 
minds at work in the making of knowledge, or (2) they must 
be self evident truths, or (3) the supposition of them must 
be the only possible explanation of our experience. Now 
I do not know how it may be with you, but as for myseK, 
looking never so carefully and critically into my own mind to 
see how it works, I do not discover there such principles or 
functions. In my experience I can find no judgments that 
are universal. I do find various connections between things 
or parts of experience, but that they are universal or neces- 
sary is no datum of my experience. And I suspect the case 
is not otherwise with your own experience. I think you 
will not undertake to maintain that the existence of these 
principles is a self-evident truth; You have learned too well 
the lesson of dogmatism for that. There remains only 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 185 

the third way in which you can establish your proposition. 
Let us see if this way is feasible. The alleged fact, the 
explanation of which is possible only if we suppose there a 
priori principles, is the science of nature. You assume 
that science consists of judgments or truths which are 
universal and necessary. Now it is that assumption which 
I challenge. Do we possess such truths ? Does our science 
consist of them ? If we do possess this kind of knowledge, 
I grant that this fact can be explained only by the supposi- 
tion of such a priori functions as you maintain. This 
fact must be established and this is what you have not done. 
My contention is that scientific propositions are neither 
necessary nor universal; these propositions assert what has 
been found true in past experience and will hold true for ex- 
perience in the future. Scientific propositions express beliefs 
which because they have been uncontradicted by experience, 
we hold with an assurance which both for theoretical and 
practical purposes, is as good as certainty. We cannot 
demonstrate the truth of these beliefs; but so long as experi- 
ence supports them, we have no practical interest which 
leads us to question their validity, and a merely theoretic 
doubt is gratuitous. That which we have no motive for 
doubting while all our interests are promoted by believing 
it, is for all our human purposes, as good as demonstrated 
certainty. But, granting we have the kind of knowledge 
you assume, is the explanation you give of it really so in-_ 
telligible and undeniable as you appear to think? Is it 
intelligible how such things as the categories of thought, 
having in their nature no essential relation to the matter 
of sense experience, can unite with this matter in the pro- 
duction of knowledge ? How pray do these thought forms 



186 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

manage to act upon matter whicli comes from a source 
which is alien to them ? For instance, how does the space 
principle, itself purely formal, and indifferent to this or that 
particular manifold of sensation, act upon this matter so as 
to give a definite spatial extent or create an individual 
object, having definite form and size? What determines 
where the spatial synthesis begins, where it terminates in 
any particular case ? Does the sensation matter come pro- 
vided with cues to indicate how the spatial arrangement is 
to proceed ? Now, sensations, qua sensations, have not a 
spatial character already, or a predetermination to assume a 
spatial form, how then does your theory explain the fact that 
they come into this, that, and the other spatial form ? Again, 
take an individual object, how let me ask does your category 
of substance, which as you say is the abstract idea or logical 
priciple of subject in relation to possible predicates, man- 
age to grasp and unify a mere manifold of different and in 
themselves unrelated sensations ? What is it which deter- 
mines the number or the kind of sensations or particulars 
of sense this category is to grasp and to unify at any given 
time? The empty formal category of substance tells us 
nothing, explains nothing in this formation of individual, 
concrete objects. Here is a rose, does your category of 
substance explain why and how just these particular sensa- 
tions, different in kind, and degree, and definite as to num- 
ber, are united or synthesized to form this object? What 
after all guides the category, itself formal and indifferent to 
sense matter, in its work of uniting just these particulars 
of sense in just this manner? Finally, does your theory 
explain the fact of causal connection ? You claim to have 
established the universality of this connection between 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 187 

phenomena. How have you done it ? You bring in the 
logical principle of the hypothetical judgment. If A, then 
B, and you assert that by applying this principle to the 
empirical succession of events, that succession is made 
objective, is therefore valid for all experience, because it is 
brought under principle of a judgment which is universal. 
Now what I utterly fail to see is, that you have made out any 
connection whatever between the formal principle of the 
hypothetical judgment and the empirical fact of succession 
of the one event upon the other. Do you maintain that if 
two things are cause and effect, the connection between them 
must be of the same nature as the connection between the 
antecedent and the consequent in the hypothetical judgment ? 
If so I reply, that is a pure assumption, it begs the whole 
question. Do you reply that unless these phenomena are 
connected in this way, causal connection cannot be universal. 
My answer is, causal connection is not known to be univer- 
sal; it is believed to be so on the strength of uniform experi- 
ence. But my point now is, assuming that we do certainly 
know that causal connection is universal, your theory does 
not explain this knowledge. 

This imaginary dialogue has served its purpose if it has 
brought into clearer light the main difference between the 
two older and most opposed theories of knowledge. We 
must now complete our examination of the rationalistic 
theories of knowledge. This we will do by a brief examina- 
tion of the epistemology of Royce. 

IV. THE EPISTEMOLOGY OF ROYCE 

Perhaps the most noteworthy feature of this epistemology 
is Professor Royce's conception of the nature and function of 



188 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

thought and the relation of thought to reality. The essen- 
tial problem of knowledge Royce finds in the meaning of 
an idea, and the relation between an idea and its object. 
How can an idea have an object? is the formulation in 
simple terms of the Kantian question, How is knowledge 
possible ? The epistemology of Royce diverges from Kant's 
doctrine chiefly at these two points, (1) the cognitive pro- 
cess, (2) the object in knowledge. In other words, the 
essential points are, the knower and the knower's relation 
to the object. We take these points in order. 

In Kant's epistemology the knower is our human and 
consequently finite mind; and the knowing process being 
that of a finite mind, is to some extent conditioned by reality 
that it does not make. In the epistemology of Royce, the 
knower is not a finite mind only, but the finite mind viewed 
as a partial function within an absolute mind. The know- 
ing process is interpreted and valued from the view point 
of this Absolute, whose knowledge is not fundamentally 
different from our human knowledge, but rather the com- 
plete attainment of that goal toward which our finite know- 
ing strives, but of which it falls short in its endeavors. The 
object of this all-knower's thought is the complete and 
determinate expression of just that idea which, in every act of 
our knowledge, is seeking this embodiment and expression. 
This absolute mind knows just what our minds would 
know, could they adequately know. This differenc in view 
point in the conceptions of the knower has an important 
bearing upon the other features in which the two theories 
differ. One highly important consequence of this difference 
in view points concerns the limitation of our human knowl- 
edge. Both Kant and Royce admit our ignorance; but 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 189 

the locus of this ignorance is different in these doctrines. 
In Kant's epistemology, the terra incognita is the Absolute, 
the All KJiower, God. In the view of Royce, our most 
profound ignorance relates to the finite, the realm of experi- 
ence. The only reality we are sure of is God, the All Knower. 
We cannot miss this fact in all our misdirections and errors 
of thought; we cannot deny the existence of the One, All 
Knowing, All possessing Being if we would do so. There 
is no possibility of losing, there is no escape from this All 
Knower; for there is absolutely nothing which is not known; 
every fact in virtue of its meaning as fact, is a known fact. 
Every truth, every aim to win truth, is known, every failure 
to win truth, every error is also known. The very possi- 
bility of truth or error is without meaning unless the Abso- 
lute knower of both truth and error exists. To assert truth 
or to admit the fact of error, is to appeal to this standard 
mind, this judging Thought. We may formulate more in- 
cisively this really momentous difference between the two 
epistemologies in this way. In Kant's doctrine, God is a 
theoretical possibility, his existence is not known but practi- 
cally postulated. In the doctrine of Royce, God's existence 
is a theoretic necessity, an inescapable fact. On the second 
point we have selected for comparison the knowing process 
and its object, the difference is very wide. As we have seen, 
both Kant and Royce reject epistemological realism. In 
both doctrines, the knower determines, in a sense creates his 
object, so far as that object is known. But the meaning 
of this object and the nature of the process through which 
it becomes known is very differently conceived by Kant 
and by Royce. In Kant's theory, the object-determing or 
creating-f unction, consists of so-called categories of thought 



190 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

and forms of sense, space, time, whicli work somehow upon 
matter, sensations supplied by a thing in itseK — reality. 
In the theory of Royce, this object-constituting function is 
something which is both an idea, a thought and a purpose; 
it is a purposive idea. It is something which means and 
intends its object; it selects and chooses that object as the 
object in which its own meaning can be embodied, its pur- 
pose be attained, its seeking issue in finding. For the object 
sought cannot have anything in it which is foreign to the 
idea which seeks it. There is no residual stuff, thing in 
itself which cannot be object of this idea, nor merely given 
matter, chaotic manifold of sensation. No, the object is 
only the complete determination and embodiment of this 
idea's meaning, the attainment of its goal, the realization of 
its purpose. It is clear that Royce has eliminated the entire 
machinery of Kant's categories, and a priori synthetic judg- 
ments, his pure intuitions of space and time, matter of 
sense and things in themselves. Consequently, he has 
escaped all those embarrassments under which the Kantian 
epistemology labors, and the objections which the em- 
piricist has always successfully urged against Kant's doc- 
trine, do not touch the theory of Royce. Criticism of his doc- 
trine must come from another quarter, and must attack other 
points if it is to find anything wanting in this marvellously 
subtle and suggestive doctrine. The presentation of it I 
have attempted is altogether meager and fragmentary. 
No one can rightly judge this undertaking of Royce, the 
greatest since Hegel, who has not gone most carefully 
through The World and the Individual, a book which will 
make a landmark in philosophy. 

We have completed our discussion of two types of episte- 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 191 

mology, rationalism and empiricism. There remains the 
third type, the epistemology of Pragmatism, to which we 
now pass. 

V. THE PRAGMATIC THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE 

The pragmatist's theory of knowledge is based upon a 
psychological doctrine, the main features of which I will 
first set forth. The first characteristic of this psychological 
basis of pragmatism is the intimate connection which it 
maintains, holds between the psychological and the logical 
character of knowledge. The pragmatist insists that the 
psychological, the genetic view of knowledge cannot be 
separated from the logical and epistemological problems. 
If we would understand what knowledge is, we must under- 
stand how it has come to be, we must follow its history; 
the problem of origin is not separable from the problem of 
nature and validity. The question, how do we think ? and 
the question how ought we to think? cannot be answered 
independently from each other. It is customary to distin- 
guish between psychological thinking and logical thinking 
in the following way: Psychology deals with thinking in an 
essentially descriptive way, it regards it as it does all psy- 
chical processes, something to be described and explained, 
as all mental events and processes. The aim of logic, on 
the other hand, is to ascertain how thinking ought to go on, 
if it will attain its aim, which is truth and knowledge. 
Logic defines the principles and laws that are regulative 
for valid thinking. Now this distinction rests on the 
assumption that to our thinking, if it is to possess a logical 
character or have epistemological significance, something 
must be added which is not found in the empirical character 



192 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

of our thinking. Now the pragmatist challenges this 
assumption of a fundamental difference between the psycho- 
logical and the logical character of thought and knowledge. 
He denies that there is a difference of any significance 
between the is and the ought to be. His contention is that 
the only way of knowing how men ought to think, is to 
know how men do think, when they are successful in their 
thinking; thinking being a tentative operation, the correct- 
ness of which is determined by its results. Laws of thought 
are statements of the methods of de facto successful thinking. 
The pragmatist maintains we can solve the problem of 
knowledge only if we approach it from the side of psychol- 
ogy ; for it is first of all a psychological problem. Approached 
in this way, the problem of logic and epistemology, which 
is inseparable from logic, becomes intelligible. Logical 
principles, laws of thought, etc., connote simply those ways 
of actual thinking which have been found expedient in the 
attainment of certain ends. These ways described in 
general terms, stated in general formulae, are regulative 
for the individual thinker, who can by this aid draw upon 
the collective experiments of the best representatives of the 
race back of him. They enable him to back his thinking 
with the best prospect of success, and to solve various 
problems which he would not have been otherwise able to 
solve. This successful experience of generations of thinkers, 
summed up in canons of Logic, is authority for the individual 
thinker. The meaning of the logical ought, like its analogue, 
the ethical ought, is, if you would be successful, effective; in 
your thinking, you must think as all have thought who 
have successfully solved their problems. Thus does the 
natural history hold the key to the epistemological problem. 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 193 

The second psychological fact which constitutes the basis 
of pragmatic epistemology is, Thinking and knowing do not 
exist for their own sake; they are not ends in themselves, 
but means to other ends. Man originally did not think 
for the sake of thinking or seek knowledge for its own sake; 
the imperious need of living, of maintaining his own 
existence in a world more hostile than friendly forced him 
to think and to make his thinking an instrument in effecting 
a successful adjustment to his environment or in controlling 
the conditions about him, so as to secure the satisfaction of 
his wants. Nor has man's development, his civilization, 
his science changed essentially the function of thought and 
knowledge. They continue to play essentially the same 
role in the life of the civilized man of to-day which they 
played in the infancy of the race. Life is the end, the will 
to live the supreme force; knowledge is the instrument this 
will employs to attain its end. It is true an individual 
may limit his conscious aim to the attainment of knowledge; 
practical uses of knowledge or ends to be gained through 
knowledge may lie beyond his voluntarily narrowed horizon; 
but this fact does not militate against the position that some 
end which is not itself knowledge, determines the value and 
ultimately justifies the pursuit of every particular piece of 
knowledge. It is also true that an individual may dissociate 
by habitual practice, thinking and knowing from the ends 
which give them meaning and value; and he may come to 
think they are valuable in themselves, and that he has a 
purely theoretic or intellectual interest, which would remain 
did he know that knowledge was never and could never 
be of any use to any living being. Just as the miser dis- 
sociates money, the instrument and symbol of wealth, from 



194 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

wealth itself and thinks it valuable for its own sake. But 
this fact does not affect the contention that, but for some end 
which is other than knowledge, knowledge would have no 
meaning or justification as an end. The position remains 
unshaken that in the economy of life, intellect plays the role 
of instrument and means, and this as truly in the human 
kingdom as in the animal world. Circumstances disguise 
this fact on the high level of man's life, with its infinitely 
greater complexity and vastly wider range of activities and 
interests ; but the same cardinal trait belongs to man's life 
and to the life of the animal below him, the subordinate 
place and the instrumental function of intellect. 

The third fact in this basis of pragmatism is, The very 
intimate and indissoluble connection which exists between 
those functions which it is still customary to distinguish as 
intellect, feeling, and will. The psychologist for his special 
purpose finds it convenient to distinguish these aspects or 
phases of our mental life; it is psychologically justifiable to 
say, I know something, I feel somehow, I do something; 
but the psychologist knows that no one can say, I know 
something, without feeling somehow and doing somewhat 
in the same experience. These processes never go on inde- 
pendently of each other; and each is qualified by the other's 
presence. 

Now the position of the pragmatist is, that in cognitive 
experience there is something quite other than coexistence 
of these three functions, or even than a certain reciprocal 
influence and mutual dependence between the intellectual 
and the other two functions. He maintains that it is never 
the case that we first know, i.e., get reality into our posses- 
sion by intellect, then feel somehow toward it, or act in 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 195 

some manner upon what is already known reality, or adjust 
ourselves in some way to this reality. On the contrary, he 
maintains, every cognitive idea is a purpose, an intent, a 
will. Every congnitive grasp of its object is an act of will 
at the same time, involves as part of its cognitive function, 
a mode of behavior toward the object. Likewise our 
feeling states, our emotional attitudes are cognitive ways of 
dealing with reality, are organs through which reality 
communicates itseK. The real is the experienced; nothing 
is to us truly, completely real until it is experienced; this 
experiencing by which reality is made ours and defined is 
a feeling and a willing no less than a thinking experience. 
We can define an object or piece of reality, only as we 
describe the feelings it excites, the actions it is fitting or 
necessary to perform in its presence; these are a part of its 
meaning, its very essence or whatness. A child's way of 
defining its unnamed object is nearer the concrete reality 
than our later names. With us at a later stage of knowledge 
after we have learned to abstract qualities and relations, 
and to substitute symbols for concrete reality, a name does 
service in place of the thing named; and the name need not, 
rarely does connote more than one or two salient, interesting 
and for our purpose important items in the thing's reality. 
The child, innocent of these artifices, defines his object in 
purely experiential terms. It burns, it is sweet, hot, hard, 
it hurts, it is good, etc., expressions which describe the child's 
experiences of things, the way in which it is affected by 
them, their values for his interests and purposes. His 
real objects are things which give him certain experiences, 
predominately feeling and active in their nature. A thing 
is an occasion on which he has certain impressions and 



196 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

feelings, and which call for a certain kind of action on his 
part. This naive view which the child has of reality, 
reflects the original character of cognitive experience, the 
interweaving of intellectual feeling and volitional factors in 
that experience. 

The fourth fact in the psychological basis of the prag- 
matic theory of knowledge is, The social character of ex- 
perience. Experience is a social tissue, the interwoven 
threads of which run ha unbroken continuity throughout. 
This experience web is made up of distinguishable portions 
of experience, each of which possesses a unique character, 
each is an individual center, out from which various threads 
of relation run to other like centers. A mode of conscious 
functioning characterizes each of these centers, which is not 
repeated elsewhere. Every bit of experience has thus a sub- 
jective character, it is owned or appropriated by a subject. A 
peculiar interest, a feeling of intimacy, attaches to it which 
we denote by the words, my, mine. An ego-centric char- 
acter thus belongs to every significant portion of experience. 
But these individual, personal, centers of experience not- 
withstanding their subjective, ego-centric character, are not 
isolated or separated from each other; no one of them func- 
tions independently of the others; each transcends and 
must transcend its mere subjectivity, its ego-centric con- 
sciousness; for each one is constituted, has its character 
determined and subsequently comes to enter consciously into 
social relations with other individual minds. Historically 
regarded there has never been such a human ego as Descartes 
assumed as the starting point for knowledge. No human 
thinker ever began his career as a solitary being, and after- 
ward set out on a voyage of discovery to find other beings; 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 197 

a knower so constituted, if indeed he could know anything, 
would never know other beings than his own poor and mean- 
ingless self. Only through his social consciousness does the 
individual attain self -consciousness; only in relation to his 
social fellows does his own isolation grow defined. The 
consequence of this social structure of experience is, that 
there is no such thing as a cognitive experience, that is 
merely subjective. In the growth of experience, no in- 
dividual mind is first formed with a merely seM consciousness. 
This social implication in cognitive experience cannot be 
denied without the denial of the experience itself. Our 
knowledge is a social growth; our real world a common 
world; every object of perception is a social object; it would 
not be a real object for me, could I not point it out to other 
minds. Every assertion I make is an appeal to a common 
mind, as the standard of judgment. The co-presence of 
other minds is the condition on which I possess my own 
mind. Thus is the social character of experience the pre- 
supposition of any tenable theory of knowledge. 

We have seen the psychological foundation on which 
pragmatic epistemology is based. We will now examine 
the theory itseK. Our first task is to gain a right con- 
ception of the function of thought. To do this we must 
get clearly before us a situation out of which thought 
arises, in which it can be seen at work. We will call this 
the thought-knowledge-situation, by which conjunction of 
terms I mean the specific occasion, the status of experience, 
out of which the thinking that is to issue in knowledge 
arises. Our actual knowledge is always particular; there 
is no knowing in general; knowledge presupposes a particular 
situation out of which it comes and to which it is relevant. 



198 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

Thinking as the instrumentahty by which knowledge is 
achieved, has always some definite antecedent, and deals 
with a specific situation, and for a specific end; thinking is 
a method of solving a specific problem. 

To begin with the thought-knowledge-situation : 
The situation out of which thinking comes and which 
calls for thought is characterized by such facts as the 
following. There exist between the parts of experience, 
obstacles to the movement of ideas, puzzle, bewilderment, 
hindrance to activity, wants which crave satisfaction, im- 
pulses with no defined ends. The experience status is, in 
consequence of these discordant elements in it, problematic; 
it sets a definite problem; to change this experience, to 
transform the situation into one which shall be free from 
discords, perplexity, and dissatisfaction. This is the 
problem which is set for thought; it is theoretical as well as 
practical. Such being the situation and its problem, let 
us follow thought in the solution of this problem. 

Its first task is to define clearly the given situation. This 
it does by analysis and discrimination of all the elements 
within the situation and by ascertaining their connections; 
in short this preliminary work of thought is a definition of 
the presented facts, a clear statement of the problem which 
they present. Now supposed the situation defined, the 
problem stated. The next step to be observed in the think- 
ing operation is the forming of an idea or conception of the 
experiential status, which were it present as the given 
experience is present, would terminate the discord, the 
dissatisfaction, etc., in the present situation. This tentative 
idea is also an idea of what is to be done in the way of opera- 
tion upon the existing datum, in order to effect the desired 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 199 

result. The idea is •consequently a plan of action; it is 
something which can institute and guide experiential 
operations. This idea in some situations is clearly a purpose, 
an intent, it aims at a kind of experience which, were it 
present, would be the fulfillment of a purpose. Now it is 
clear that as the pragmatist conceives the matter, the 
cognitive idea is representative of experience, of experiential 
activities and states; it is a substitute for such experiences, 
functions in their place and in the place of the experiences 
which are sought as object or goal of the cognitive process 
and in the place of the intermediary experiential operation 
by means of which the terminal experiences are reached 
Now comes the final step in the cognitive process. This 
consists in an experiential operation or process of the follow- 
ing sort: Under the guidance of the tentative idea as a plan 
of action, there follow certain actions and experience proc- 
esses, which lead to and terminate in the experience which 
harmonizes the discrepancies, clears up the perplexities, 
satifies the want and relieves the tension; and ends the 
dissatisfaction which characterized the original situation. 
This fulfilling and satisfying experience in its connection 
with all that has lead to it, is when retrospectively viewed, 
knowledge. For looking back and taking the experience 
states, ideas and actions and their immediate consequences, 
we can say each of them was cognitive in its meaning and 
aim; and their realized meaning, their successful aim is what 
constitutes knowledge. Here is the step from idea to knowl- 
edge. This terminal experience is first present in idea, is the 
idea's meaning, its intent and aim. By the operation of 
that idea in the control and guidance of action, this ex- 
perience becomes actual; the idea has made good, it has 



200 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

become successful, and this its proved value is what we shall 
later see is the meaning of that much discussed term truth. 
It will make this meaning of cognitive experience more 
intelligible if we study one or two concrete cases. The 
first shall be the case of a man who has lost his way in a 
forest, is exhausted by his fruitless wanderings, is without 
food and shelter, exposed to the perils of wild animals. 
These facts constitute the situation, which sets the problem 
of knowledge. In this instance the problem is altogether 
practical; it is to get out of the woods to a place of safety, 
where the man can get shelter and food. The solution 
of this man's problem of knowledge is accomplished in the 
following way : 

(1) The man's thinking defines clearly his situation, all 
the elements which constitute it, all that is relevant to what 
the situation calls for. 

(2) The man forms a tentative idea which in this case is 
essentially a plan of action ; this idea contains every operation 
by means of which he seeks to realize his practical aim; 
every item of experience which is relevant to the actions he 
is to perform enters into this idea. This idea includes also 
whatever feature or fact of his environment he needs to 
take account of in working out his problem, obstacles to be 
overcome, things which can further his plan, all these things 
form a part of his real world at the time. 

(3) The man working upon this idea, being guided in his 
various actions by it, finally reaches the place of safety, 
shelter and supply of his needs. This is the terminal 
experience, at the beginning was present in idea, is now 
actual and is, when viewed in relation to the experiences that 
have led to it, knowledge. 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 201 

The next case shall be a situation which presents a 
distinctly theoretical problem. Let it be the case of an 
astronomer, who notes in the movements of a known 
planet, certain irregularities, the cause of which he has 
not yet ascertained. The thought knowledge situation in 
this instance, contains discrepancies between actual and 
predicted events, discontinuity in place of continuity, dis- 
satisfaction arising from baffled endeavors, and unrelieved 
preplexity. The specific problem which the situation sets 
is, to get an experience in which this disturbing discrepancy 
is removed ; the idea which thought constructs, we will sup- 
pose is that of a planetary body of a definite mass and posi- 
tion in the solar system. This idea is then acted upon; it 
instigates and directs a course of experiential operations — 
say, observing with telescope, measuring, computing, com- 
paring computed with observed facts, etc. — ^with the final 
result that this object fits into the context of experience, so 
as to remove all discrepancies, and fill the gap, in contin- 
uity; in short make this frustration of effort, and this un- 
pleasant break in the continuity of events shall be removed. 
The tentative idea makes the whole experience situation 
harmonious, coherent and satisfying. Here again knowl- 
edge is seen to be the final result of an experience process, 
having two termini and an intervening or intermediary 
experiential operation, which finally links these two termini 
or portions of experience. We see that the function of 
thought is to effect this final connection between these por- 
tions of experience, or to effect the transition from the 
experience-portion we call the situation-for-thought, the 
terminus a quo situation, to the experience portion which, 
completes the meaning, removes the discords, and the dis- 



202 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

satisfactions which characterized the initial experience. 
When this has been done, the thought-knowledge situation 
is worked out, the problem of knowledge is solved. 

THE PRAGMATIC MEANING OF TRUTH 

We have seen that the function of an idea is to institute 
and direct various actions and their accompaniments so as 
to secure a desirable reconstruction of experience. Thus, 
in the case of the man lost in the forest, the idea guided 
his actions, directed his perception and inferences to the 
desired end. Now this successful dischage of its function, 
this efficiency and good working of an idea, is what prag- 
matists mean by the truth of an idea. A true idea is one 
which works well, in the sense that consequences which 
follow from its adoption, are in the widest sense of the term 
desirable consequences, theoretically satisfying as well as 
practically satisfactory. To work well in experience and 
to be true, are two expressions for the same fact. These 
good consequences of an idea are also the criterion of its 
truth, they are its verification; not however in the sense that 
they merely prove that the idea was true, they are the 
trueness of the idea itself. Since they constitute the truth 
of the idea, they of course verify the idea in the sense of 
proving it true. Our man in the forest after he had found 
his way out, and sitting down in security and comfort, and 
recalling the way in which he had w rked himself out of the 
undesirable situation into the present satisfying one, if he 
was a pragmatist, he did not say, "The idea I formed and 
adopted as a plan of action, was a true idea the minute I 
formed it, and my subsequent working upon it, and the 
resulting experiences have proved that it then was a true idea. 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 203 

in other words verified my idea. I did not make its truth, 
I only became certain of its truth, its being true and my 
knowledge of its being true are two distinct things, the 
truth of my idea is one thing, the verification of this idea is 
quite a different thing." Now, this is just the way a realistic 
rationalist or an intellectualist would view the matter; and 
were our traveller a thinker of this type, this would be his 
reasoning. But our pragmatist would reason after this 
manner, " My idea which I tentatively adopted as a plan 
of action, was successful in guiding the course of experience 
to this satisfying issue; and this successful working of my 
idea is what I mean by its being true. My idea was not 
true to begin with; it became true, it was made true, it made 
good by its working; and this, its making good and being 
true are two expressions of the same fact. In a sense I 
could say that inasmuch as it was the kind of idea that was 
fitted to lead to these good consequences, it was potentially 
true the moment I formed it; just as I say this cheque I 
have in my pocket, is potentially good; it will bring cash 
at the bank, its cash value is its actual goodness. So with 
my idea, it was practically good and could be cashed in 
terms of actual experience, but it was actually good or true 
only as it did get reduced to concrete experience. Or, to 
put the matter in a different way, my idea had a claim to 
being true, when I entertained it in the forest. This claim 
was subsequently made good." 

The pragmatist's proposition that true ideas are those 
which are satisfying, those which have satisfactory conse- 
quences, has exposed his doctrine to misunderstanding. 
He is supposed to mean that any idea is true the enter- 
tainment of which by the mind, affords satisfaction or 



204 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

makes one feel well. He is supposed to identify truth with 
satisfaction, as a good state of feeling, pleasure, hope, 
etc. According to this interpretation our lost traveller's 
idea of getting out of the forest, etc., was true when he 
formed it, provided it gave him satisfaction in cherishing 
it; if it made him happy, hopeful, etc. 

Now, the pragmatist does not mean that the satisfaction of 
this sort, felt in entertaining an idea makes the idea true, 
or affords evidence of its truth. The satisfying consequences 
he means are those which follow the adoption of the idea, and 
the acting upon this idea. They are the whole course of 
subsequent experience, and they include objective things as 
well as subjective conditions, theoretic consequences and 
theoretic satisfactions as well as practically satisfying con- 
sequences. 

Before passing to the next part of the pragmatist's doctrine, 
a word should be added to what has been said upon the 
distinction between truth and verification. For the prag- 
matist, the truth of an idea and the verification of an idea 
do not connote different things, but distinguishable aspects 
of the same thing. Thus to recur to our lost traveller: 
Keeping his hypothetical idea like a map in his hand, and 
comparing with the idea his actual experiences as they 
successively came to him, he could say he was verifying his 
idea; but he would also say the same experiences into which 
the idea was leading, were what he meant by the truth of 
the idea. So that the truth of his idea consisted in its 
verification. Its verification was inseparable from its being 
true. The pragmatist's distinction between truth and 
verification is identical with the distinction between poten- 
tial truth and actual truth. Verification is the passing 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 205 

from the potential to the acutal truth of an idea; it is getting 
the idea cashed in terms of concrete experience. 

THE PRAGMATIC MEANING OF REALITY OR THE 
OBJECT IN KNOWLEDGE 

The pragmatist meaning of reahty has been the occasion 
of scarcely less misunderstanding and dispute than his 
meaning of truth. The pragmatist has no hesitancy in 
accepting the following propositions: Our thinking deals 
with reality; our ideas are true or false according to the way 
in which they deal with reality. It is by reality that we judge 
of the success or failure or our cognitive endeavors. But, by 
the term reality, the pragmatist does not mean something 
which is independent or separable from experience. Reality 
is intra- not ea^fra-experiential. The stuff of which reality 
is made so far as we have to do with reality in cognitive 
experience is the stuff of which experience is made. The 
predicate term real does not connote something that is non- 
or trans-experiential, but a character of experience, or some 
particular portion of experience or its contents. We say 
of a certain experience, it is real just as we say that it is inter" 
esting or dull. To recur to the exposition of the thought- 
knowledge-situation. The thought situation is de facto 
real; discordant experiences, obstacles to activity, per- 
plexity in thinking, etc., these are facts, they constitute our 
reality then and there. Reality is something which must 
be taken account of, with which we have to reckon. But 
none of these presented facts are extra-experiential. They 
are experience facts. Their realness is the relation they 
sustain to our purposes, our aims, our wants, etc. Now our 
thinking as we have seen, sets out from this kind of reality, as 



206 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

its datum or terminus a quo, and it leads through various 
intermediaries as it may be, into another reaUty, a reality 
of a different character. It is a reality which means a 
removal of discrepancies, of want, etc. When these two 
portions of experience are brought together, or rather when 
an experience status has been brought about in which both 
the experience portions are united, we have the object, the 
reality aimed at. Now in the cognitive operation there is no 
transcendence of experience, qua experience, but there is 
brought about an altered, improved and more satisfying 
kind of experience. And this leads to another feature of 
the pragmatist conception of reality. Realities are not 
static, unchangeable things, the real world is not unchange- 
able, not incapable of being made better or worse, is not 
completed, there can be more of it. Our realities can be 
made over, made better and more satisfying. Some of 
them at least can be remolded closer to the heart's desire; 
none of them remain what they were after we have worked 
upon them. It is the function of our thinking, it is the 
meaning of our cognitive endeavor, to reconstruct a reality 
which is unsatisfying for various reasons and to put in the 
place of it another reality which is satisfying to all our 
interests. 

If there be reality which is already complete, unchange- 
able, etc., it lies outside the field of our experience; and our 
purposes and interests can take no account of it. But 
within the field of experience, the only reality that is un- 
changed, is that which we have had no occasion to change 
in the interests of our purposes. If there is destined to be for 
our recognition, an Absolute, and therefore unchangeable 
reality, it must be a form of experience which no one could 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 207 

desire to change, and could have no motive to change. In 
that experience there can be no unsatisfied want, no un- 
fulfilled intent, no unrealized purpose, no incomplete 
fragment of meaning. 

Such is the Absolute. That there is such a reality, the 
pragmatist is as free to postulate, as the rationalist: his 
position is that with a reality of this sort, we do not sustain 
properly cognitive relations. The reality we know is 
susceptible of change and improvement by our cognitive 
working; it is just our function as thinkers and knowers to 
add something to reality, to improve it and bring it closer to 
our ideal. All our thinking and knowing goes on the 
assumption that our real world is still in the making; and 
that our individual endeavors count toward the achieve- 
ment of a better kind of reality than we yet possess. Com- 
pleted, perfected, and therefore immutable reality, is for a 
thinker, a knower, who is already all he can be and can 
aspire to be and who has nothing left but to enjoy a static 
and absolute perfection. 

OBJECTIONS TO THE PRAGMATIC THEORY OF 
KNOWLEDGE 

A theory which differs so radically from orthodox ration- 
alism has naturally called forth vigorous criticism. And 
since it will conduce further to a clearer understanding of 
pragmatism I will now discuss some of these objections. 

The first objection is: In its attempt to unite the ruling 
conceptions and methods of psychology and logic, this theory 
has simply confused them with the consequence that its 
OApVn method is neither intelligible as logic nor as psychology. 
The objector insists that psychology and logic each deal 



208 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

with knowledge in ways which are too diverse to admit of the 
kind of connection pragmatism tries to maintain between 
them. 

A still more serious result of this oversight of essential 
differences between the methods of psychology and of logic is 
a misapprehension of the nature of thought. The objector 
says, "I have no difficulty in regarding thinking in one of 
its aspects as a process in experience. Psychologically 
viewed, thinking as every other conscious functioning is an 
experience process, like every other psychical process; it 
arises under definite conditions, goes on in a describable 
manner, and terminates in other psychical processes or 
states; but when I am asked to see in this mode of experi- 
ence, the logical structure, the epistemological significance of 
thought, I confess I am totally unable to do this." "An 
experience process as such and its logical and epistemo- 
logical value are, I am constrained to think, different 
things. Experience may be the only field in which we do 
think and in which our thinking can be valid, but it 
remains true that in that field thinking has a character 
which the pragmatic theory fails to recognize." 

To this objection, the pragmatist answers, '*Your ob- 
jection is an instance of what may be called the intellectual- 
ist's fallacy, namely, taking a distinction which formal 
thinking makes, for a real difference in the matters thought 
about. Your difficulty arises from a vicious abstrac- 
tionism; this wrong use abstraction leads you to take a part 
or aspect for the whole, or rather to take an aspect of ex- 
perience to be something which is itself other than ex- 
perience. Because intellect or logical thinking is dis- 
tinguishable from other processes in experience, you think 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 209 

it is diflferent from experience itself. Your whole objection 
is based on th.e assumption that where our abstract thinking 
makes a distinction, there must be a real difference in the 
matters themselves." 

But the objector presses his attack at another, and seem- 
ingly more vulnerable point and says, "The reasoning by 
which you maintain your doctrine of truth moves in a circle, 
for your doctrine asserts that the successful and satisfactory 
working of an idea and the truth of this idea are the same 
thing. Now, you must give some reason for the fact that 
an idea is successful, does work well in experience, while 
answer another idea fails to work well. You are bound to 
answer the question, why does a given idea work well in ex- 
perience ? It is certainly no answer to this question, mere- 
ly to point to the successful working of the idea, any more 
than it is a fitting answer to the question, why is A a 
successful man, merely to point to his actual success.** 

"Now, examination shows that the reason why an idea 
does work well in experience is something quite different 
from the merely good working itself, just as the reason why 
a knife cuts well is distinct from its mere cutting well. Now, 
this reason must be found in the idea, qua idea, in its rela- 
tion to something which is other than the consequences 
which result from that relation. Now it is just this relation 
between the true idea and fact or reality which your theory 
overlooks. The consequence of this oversight is that, 
when your try to give a reason why an idea works well, you 
can do so only in appearance; for you are compelled to say 
an idea is true because it works well, and it works well 
because it is true." 

The pragmatist meets this objection in the following way: 



210 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

"Just why a given idea does work well, and is therefore 
true I do not profess to know any more than I claim 
to know why our world of experience is what it is. 
Doubtless an all knower could answer this question. It 
certainly is no answer to this question to say, as you do, 
it is because the ideas agree with something, called reality, 
real world, etc.; for that is as much an enigma as the 
fact you ask me to explain. A true idea does have its 
own distinctive character, in virtue of which it works 
well, but why it has this character, how it came by it, I do 
not pretend to know. Nor does it seem to me that you 
really answer this question, by appealing to reality or a real 
world; and to this ineffable relation of the idea to it, called 
agreement, correspondence, etc. Unless you already know 
what this real world is, agreement with which makes the 
idea true, I must think your reason is but an instance of 
explaining the unknown by the equally unknown. The 
difference between us at this point is this, I frankly confess 
I cannot answer the question, why a given idea works well 
and is therefore true. You answer this question by appeal- 
ing to a sort of a relation between the idea and reality, the 
very nature of which is still problematic." 

But the objector makes a third attack upon this doctrine. 
It is to this effect : " If you are consistent as a pragmatist, you 
ought to be a most solitary being; nay, you are a solipsist. 
Yourself, your subjective experiences are your only real 
world; for you can think of and know only that experience 
which is your own; no other experience is fact for you but 
that of which you can say, my experience. Your individual 
experience is the only experience you are entitled to recog- 
nize. If you set up the fiction of other minds, as you 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 211 

doubtless can do, it is to play with them as dummies in a 
game of solitaire. You cannot logically convince yourself 
that the other minds are other than bits of your own ex- 
perience, any more than the player of solitaire can delude 
himself into the belief that his dummy is a real human 
player. No, if you will be a consistent pragmatist in your 
epistemology, you must be a solipsist in your metaphysics." 
To this objection which by some is held to be unanswerable, 
the pragmatist can make the following reply: "The psycho- 
logical basis of pragmatism which no rejecter of this theory 
has yet overthrown, distinctly shows that our human 
experience is social in its very structure. Consequently such 
an individual as your solipsist cannot exist; and, therefore, 
I am absolved from the task of saving my theory from 
solipsism. But, were such a predicament conceivable 
and the logical consequence of my theory, can you who 
adhere to an intellectualistic logic save yourself from the 
same fate? Pray how do you rationally know that you 
are not alone ? How do you by your method of knowing, 
reach the existence of other beings than yourself ? Can you 
save yourself from logical solipsism in any other way than by 
the pragmatic method of salvation from doubt ? It is just 
because experience with one solitary individual in it, would 
be an intolerable situation, and must therefore be worked 
over and transformed into a social experience, that no in- 
dividual who is a pragmatist could remain a solitary being, 
did he find himself in such a predicament." 

"So far then from its being true that pragmatism is logic- 
ally solipsism, pragmatism affords the only logical escape 
from solipsism." 

But, pragmatism encounters another objection to this 



212 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

effect: According to this theory, the same idea can be 
true and false at the same time, true for one mind and false 
for another. For, if it be that of an individual only, then the 
same idea may work well in the one individual's experience, 
and fail to work well in the experience of another individual. 
Thus, the idea of there being intelligent being on the planet 
Mars, works well in A's experience, while the same idea 
does not work well in B's experience. Consequently the 
same idea would be both true and false This objection 
is met by calling attention to the fact that the verifying 
experience is not that of an individual merely, but of all 
individuals, or experience in general. An idea in order to 
be true must work well throughout experience; and it is not 
completely true until it has done so. But the objection is 
pushed farther, and the objector now says, "The same idea, 
since it is not wholly true for one individual and not wholly 
untrue for another, is in part true and in part not true for 
all individuals. The same idea would then be a mixture of 
both characters, true and false." But the pragmatist sees 
nothing serious in this objection. He readily admits this 
mixed character of an idea, its character of being only par- 
tially true. That only means that an idea can be more or 
less true, or that truth has degrees. For, since an idea 
acquires its truth or untruth according to its working in 
experience, it becomes true so far as it works well, and fails 
of that character so far as it fails to work well. Indeed, the 
pragmatist can maintain that the admission of degrees of 
truth occasions no more difficulty on his theory than on the 
theory of rationalism. 

One more objection to pragmatic epistemology remains, 
and in the judgment of many antipragmatists, this objec- 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 213 

tion is valid and most serious. "Pragmatism," says the 
objecter, "leaves the ethical and religious demands unsat- 
isfied. It does so because with the most favorable in- 
terpretation, experience is purely humanistic; the theory 
can recognize only our human experience. The only world 
which the pragmatist can admit is the world of our human 
hves. There is for the consistent pragmatist no trans- 
human reality. Whatever ideals, whatever aspirations, 
whatever dissatisfactions exist in our experience, the only 
fulfilling and satisfying reality there is to which we may 
look, is made of the stuflf of these same human experiences. 
We are not permitted to look beyond our human type of 
reality. For the satisfaction of our ethical and religious 
needs, and ideals, we must look to our possibly better selves. 

Our idealized selves are our Gods. In answer to our cry 
after the divine, the All Good, there can only be given that 
fragment of truth and goodness which our human finite 
selves can possess." 

To this objection the pragmatist can make this answer: 
My doctrine does not limit experience to our own human 
type. I set no bonds to possible experience. Why may 
not the social experience embrace the supra-human, the 
Divine as well as the other human minds ? True, there is 
a closeness and intimacy of connection between our human 
minds that we have not yet realized between ourselves and 
the greater than human experience. I acknowledge, realize, 
and communicate with my human fellows, as I do not 
acknowledge and communicate with any other parts of 
experience. The experience portions which mean other 
minds like my own, and things not minds (possibly), get 
linked to my individual mind, become interwoven with 



214 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

the very experience I call mine; because I am constantly en- 
gaged in solving various problems which arise in my experi- 
ence, and for the solution of which I am constantly sent, as 
it were, to these other minds. It is otherwise with that vast 
outlying tract of experience. How much of it is destined to 
become cognitively connected with my individual being 
as these nearer experience centers are connected, no one can 
say; but up to date that whole region is hardly more than 
postulated reality. Now, in this outlying region of trans- 
human experience, we put the Divine, the All Good Being, 
just as in idea we represent a finite and human experience. 
The difference, however, is this. The divine reality remains 
still a postulated experience, we have not yet verified its ex- 
istence, or, rather, our idea of it by the experiential connec- 
tions, through which in the case of other finite portions of 
experience, we verify our ideas. Has not, therefore, the prag- 
matist the same right to postulate God as his rationalistic 
objector ? Nay, is it not the pragmatic method we all adopt 
when in our dissatisfaction with the experience reality we 
call the finite universe, and our human existence, we seek 
a form of experience which were it present and really ours 
as this fragmentary, discordant, and unsatisfying reality 
is present, would solve our problem, fulfill our still unrealized 
purposes, and satisfy our still unsatisfied cravings and 
minds P Or, why should not a pragmatist of all men if he 
finds our human experience in its totality unsatisfactory 
and in need of reconstruction, not set about that task of 
gaining this satisfying form of experience, in the same way 
in which he proceeds with any particular finite piece of 
experience, and consequently frame the tentative idea of a 
reality he calls God. True, he must wait for the verifica- 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 215 

tion of this idea; perhaps that verification will never come. 
But, is the case otherwise with the rationalist P Does he yet 
know that the God of his idea exists ? Has he verified his 
postulated, his hypothetical God-idea ? Therefore, I con- 
clude, the pragmatist need not be without God in his world. 
Pragmatism does not leave the ethical and religious demands 
of our nature unsatisfied." 

I have presented the epistemology of pragmatism and the 
pragmatist's defense of his doctrine. A comparison of 
this theory with the theory of empiricism shows a very close 
relation existing between them. One might almost be 
justified in saying the pragmatic theory of knowledge is 
empiricism, only of a more radical sort than the older 
empirical theory. But more careful examination dis- 
closes not unimportant differences between the epistemolo- 
gies and in the conceptions of experiences. In the empiri- 
cism of Locke, Hume and their followers, experience is 
merely the passive reception of impressions of sense. These 
original impressions passively received, are copied, re- 
produced in ideas, which of course imply action of mind. 
Other mental activities are recognized in discrimination, 
abstract thinking, etc., but just how these active functions 
are related to experience as the empiricist conceives it, is 
not clear. The tendency of this general theory is to regard 
the whole process of ideation and knowing as passive rather 
than active. Thinking, knowing are not constructive, or 
reconstructive activities; they are simply reproduction or 
representation of reality already made and determined in all 
its important features, without the coopeartion of our think- 
ing and cognitive activity. Now, quite in contrast with this 
conception of experience and its relation to knowledge, 



216 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

pragmatism makes experience fundamentally active and 
coextensive with all our modes of action. Experience is 
experiment, tentative activity, directed to something. 
What is passive in it is only the occasion, the datum for 
action, which seeks always to change, reconstruct — this 
merely given. Experience is experiencing, and that means 
experimenting; and into this experimental process, there 
enter as cooperant factors, all our functions, perception, 
thinking, feeling, willing. There is no such experience as 
passive reception of impressions. Our very reception is 
reactive; the nearest approach then to passivity, in mental 
attitude is the simpler feeling states, pleasure and pain. Ex- 
perience being thus through and through activity, perception, 
memory, imagination, thinking, and willing, can be prop- 
erly characterized as definite modes of experiencing. 

The entire web or context of experience, woven as it is by 
these activities and states, and always in process of change 
or reconstruction, is the reality with which as individuals 
we have to do. Now this conception of experience carries 
with it a second feature of pragmatic epistemology, in which 
its difference from empiricism is important, the conception 
of knowledge. Empiricism is intellectualistic in its idea of 
knowledge. It is in accord with rationalism on this point, 
that the function of the intellect is to know. So also in its 
conception of truth. With rationalism it holds the intellec- 
tualistic doctrine that truth is agreement or correspondence 
between idea and reality which the idea does not determine, 
and consequently knowing does consist in having con- 
sciously true ideas of fact. Furthermore, the empiricist's 
ideal of truth and knowledge is a known agreement between 
our ideals and a real world which is distinct from our 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 217 

experiences of it, and which possesses a structure that we in 
no manner constitute or change, by our knowing. The 
empiricists of the older type always judged our actual, our 
attainable knowledge, by this ideal of knowledge, and hence 
the doctrine that our knowledge is limited and is imperfect. 
Hence, our beliefs, the truth of which we can never know. 
Empiricism in rejecting the claim of rationalism to a knowl- 
edge of trans-experience reality, did not abandon the 
thought of that reality and it continued to make that reality 
the standard real, and a knowledge of it the ideally true 
knowledge. Hume's scepticism owes its whole force to 
this conception of reality and knowledge, which is in the 
background of the empirical theory. Now we have only to 
recall the pragmatic doctrine to see that it diverges from 
empiricism widely on this important point. But this point 
can best be discussed under the topic with which I shall 
conclude this second part of our study. This topic is 
Scepticism, Doubt. 

We have first to ascertain the meaning of this mental 
state; for scepticism, doubt, whatever be the proper signifi- 
cation of these terms, designate a mental attitude toward 
knowledge and truth, or to a claim which is made to them. 
It is well to begin with the observation that scepticism does 
not mean denial. So far as one denies, he does not doubt. 
On the contrary he asserts knowledge. If I deny there are 
intelligent beings on the planet Mars, I at the same time 
assert a knowledge of conditions on that planet which exclude 
the existence of such beings there. If I deny any knowledge 
about the planet Mars, I assert a knowledge about my own 
mental condition or my cognitive status. I assert it is one 
which excludes knowledge. The essence of scepticism. 



218 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

doubt, is the consciousness, the confession of ignorance. It 
follows from this meaning of scepticism, that it cannot be 
absolute. I may assert complete ignorance of the condi- 
tions which obtain on the planet Mars, but I at least know 
or claim to know that there is such a planetary body as Mars 
which does have psychical conditions of some sort. I may 
assert complete uncertainty as to the existence of such a 
planet as Mars, but to do so I must know or claim to know 
something about the solar system within which I place this 
problematic being. 

We must next ask how doubt is possible? We have 
seen that doubt is a mental attitude toward something 
which is conceived or suggested as real or true. If I 
doubt, my doubt has its object, I doubt about something. I 
can be ignorant only in relation to a conceived state of 
mind, which were it mine would be knowledge. Something, 
therefore, which I lack, and the confession of this lack of a 
certain ideal state I call knowledge, is what I mean by my 
ignorance or doubt. It follows from the necessary presup- 
position of doubt, that both the nature and the significance 
of doubt are determined by the conception we have of knowl- 
edge, and of truth. Hence, the meaning and the impor- 
tance of scepticism is not the same in the epistemology of 
rationalism, especially realistic rationalism, as it is in the 
epistemology of pragmatism. In the doctrine of realistic 
rationalism, the possibility of doubt cannot be excluded, 
for since our thought deals with a reality whose nature is 
already determined, and its determinate nature is wholly 
independent of our thought, the truth of my thought must 
consist simply in correspondence, agreement with this 
reality. Now, unless thought by its own structure or by its 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 219 

own operation somehow affords indubitable evidence of its 
truth, that evidence must come ab extra. The only other 
sort of evidence must be empirical verification. Now, 
verification based on experience can never carry us farther 
than the knowledge of complete agreement between facts 
deduced from the hypothetical reality, and the facts of 
observation and experience; but this does not exclude the 
possibility that the reality might be other than it is con- 
ceived, and yet the same verification be possible. It will 
always remain possible to conceive reality otherwise, or 
that reality is other in its own nature than we have thought it; 
hence doubt will always be possible, and what is more 
serious, it will be possible that our thought is completely 
wrong, while of course, there may be degrees of truth, the 
doubt is possible that in a given case, our thought has the 
maximum degree of untruth. It does not comfort me to be 
told that my idea of God may be in part true, so long as I 
cannot be certain whether it is only in part true or alto- 
gether untrue. 

If we turn to pragmatism it would seem at first sight that 
doubt has a very different significance and that it can be 
overcome. It might seem that pragmatism offers a full 
salvation from philosophic doubt. Let us see if this first 
impression is borne out by more critical examination. Ac- 
cording to this theory ideas are true in varying degrees; an 
idea is true if it works well, if it guides experience to a 
successful and satisfying result; an idea is consequently true 
in the measure in which its working is good and satisfying. 
So far as it works well it is true, so far as it fails to do so it 
lacks truth. Now, so far as an idea is true, there must be 
knowledge of this truth; for this working well is a matter of 



220 THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

experiential knowledge. An idea which should work well 
throughout experience, work altogether well and bring 
completely satisfying consequences, in other words be 
completely verified, would be completely true, for the truth 
of an idea and its verification are the same thing. And 
hence the absolute banishment of doubt is theoretically 
possible. On the contrary, in realistic rationalism, theo- 
retic doubt must always remain; there is no salvation from 
it. If I accept pragmatism, I ought never to suffer more than 
a partial doubt, if in fact so much as that, for my idea being 
true so far as it works well, and I knowing whether or not 
it does work well, cannot be in doubt. And since an idea 
acquires the character of truth or untruth only in conse- 
quence of its working, and so far as it actually does work, it 
would seem that so far as this idea becomes true, it is known 
to be true. So that there is no room for doubt; it cannot 
enter at any point in the career of this idea. But is there 
no point at which doubt can enter into a good pragmatist's 
mind ? Is the pragmatist never uncertain ? Is there 
nothing about which he is doubtful? One thing is clear, 
the pragmatist cannot be uncertain about the same matter as 
the intellectualists; nor is he uncertain for the same reason. 
Of what then can the pragmatist be uncertain ? Concerning 
what can he be in a doubtful state of mind ? In answer, I 
will suggest that doubt may enter for the pragmatist at two 
points; first, at the beginning of the process of verification. 
To recur to our man in the woods, after he had formed 
his idea of his course of action, and of experience which 
would bring the desired experience, and before actual work- 
ing upon this idea, and getting knowledge of the idea's 
good working, and consequently of its truth, the man was, we 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 221 

will suppose, uncertain whether or not this idea would work 
well. I am supposing that the only experiential working 
that is to be taken into account, is this individual's expe- 
rience, and hence the only open question was, will the idea 
work well in my experience? The only possible uncer- 
tainty would relate to this possible future working of his 
idea. Now, observe that this doubt is not a discouragement 
to action, on the contrary, it is a stimulus to action. For 
the man can banish his own doubt, he can know the truth, 
and he can reach a point beyond possible doubt. Now, 
let us note the second point at which doubt can enter the 
mind of a pragmatist; and we may be disposed to think 
this doubt if genuine is as bad as the intellectualist's doubt. 
This other opening for doubt is the verifying process. In 
what experience must an idea work well, if it is a true idea ? 
In the experience of the individual merely, or in experience 
ueherhawpt or universal experience .^^ If in the latter then 
how is the individual to know whether or not his idea is one 
which does work in experience of all minds, and not merely 
in his experience ? How can he know whether the idea 
which works well in his experience works well in the expe- 
rience of all other minds ? Can he assume that there is a 
common content of experience or character of experience, 
so that when he finds an idea works well in his experience, 
he can be certain that it does work, or would work in the 
same way in all those other portions of experience ? Unless 
he knows this fact, must he not have to wait until experience 
in general is known to him or is complete before his uncer- 
tainty passes into knowledge ? If so, in what respect does 
his situation differ from the intellectualists whose doubt as 
we saw, can never be extinguished ? Could our intellec- 



THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE 

tualist doubter become all knowing, his doubt, of course, 
would vanish. Could our pragmatist get all experience 
under his view, know it all, his uncertainty would likewise 
pass away; but both being finite, must they not both remain 
in doubt? But, it may be answered, the doubt does not 
have the same significance in both cases. The intellec- 
tualist's doubt could continue were verification complete, 
while complete verification in the case of the pragmatist's 
doubt would mean its extinction. But after all, has this 
difference anything more than a theoretic importance ? 
Practically, do not both tread a minimum doubt in the same 
way, namely, regard it as a negligible quantity, and cease 
to be affected by it? Under the intellectualist's view of 
truth, a completely verified hypothesis has the working 
value in a certified truth. 



PART III 
THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

CHAPTER VIII 
THE PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT 

The matters we shall be occupied with in this part of our 
study form the subject of what are commonly called the 
philosophical sciences, ethics, aesthetics, and religion. 
The peculiarity of these sciences is, that the judgments 
which form their content are not only judgments of fact but 
judgments of value. In ethics, aesthetics, and religion we 
have to do with appreciations, and not with descriptions 
merely, with values and not with facts merely, with questions 
of what ought to be, and not merely with what is, with such 
hings as standards and ideals. The objects which form 
the subject matter of these sciences are presented to us in 
two ways; They are facts to be described, explained as 
science explains all its facts. They are also objects which 
have value, they are to be appreciated, valued. In ethics, 
aesthetics, and religion we enter a world of appreciation, 
something which is quite other than the world of description. 
In these subjects we have to do with both worlds; for ex- 
ample, a human action, in one aspect of it, in one part of 
its reality, belongs to the world of description as truly as 
does a body moving in space; it is something to be explained, 
just as science explains any phenomenon. Both the external 

223 



224 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

observable deed, and the internal mental antecedents and 
motives to the deed admit of a natural science explanation. 
But this same action has another character, there is another 
part of the total fact, which cannot be disposed of by a 
scientific explanation; the action and its motivating ante- 
cedents are valued, in such terms as right or wrong, 
good or bad. This value judgment is altogether distinct 
from the fact-judgment, the meaning of this action is a 
problem that is quite other than the problem of its existence 
as a phenomenal event. This value judgment, this mean- 
ing of the action, calls for an explanation which has no recog- 
nition or relevancy in the field of science. The same thing 
is true of the aesthetic judgment; aesthetic valuation, like 
ethical valuation, is something over and above the factual 
existence of the thing which is aesthetically appreciated or 
valued. No scientific explanation of a rose will explain or 
justify the judgment, the rose is a thing of beauty. What 
is true of ethical and aesthetic valuation, is true also of 
religious beliefs, emotions, and actions. Religion is one 
of the ways in which we respond to, react toward our larger 
environment. This religious reaction embodies itself in 
form of beliefs, emotions, hopes, fears and various will 
attitudes. Religion is a form of appreciation, a way of 
valuing the world-reality in its relation to our lives. 
Religious belief is an expression of the value which its object 
possesses for the believer. 

It is customary to distinguish logic, ethics, and aesthet- 
ics as normative sciences, because a norm, or standard, 
in accordance with which the judgment is made, is pre- 
supposed in their judgments. The judgment that an action 
is right or good, that a flower is beautiful, presupposes a 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 2^5 

standard, an ideal or norm of Tightness, and beauty. The 
normative character of the science of rehgion is not obvious; 
but reflection discloses this normative significance of religion ; 
for we have seen, we have to do with valuation in religion 
as in ethics and aesthetics; and it is one of the aims of the 
science of religion to ascertain those forms of belief, those 
emotions and actions, which are adapted to secure this 
religious valuation. 

We have accepted the designation, philosophical sciences; 
but it would be better to discard this term; its use tends to 
break down the distinction between science and philosophy, 
which is no less clear in this field than it is elsewhere. It 
is true that in this department of our experience, the residual 
problems which are left when science has done her work 
are problems of greater interest and importance for us, 
than are the problems which belong to science in other 
spheres. But the demarcation of philosophy from science 
is no less to be maintained in this field, than in the 
other fields of our human experience. Ethics and aesthet- 
ics are no more philosophical sciences than are physics and 
chemistry. 

I. THE PROBLEM OF MORALITY 

Of the three problems which fall to this main division 
of our study, we shall deal with two only, the problem of 
morality and the problem of religion. We take them in 
this order, and we first note that the main problem of the 
moral life breaks up into three special problems as follows: 

1. The relation of morality to metaphysics, or the 
Metaphysical Implications of Ethics. 

2. The Problem of Free-will. 

3. The Problem of the Good, or the Ethical End. 



226 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

Ethics and Metaphysics. 

In answer to the question concerning the relation between 
morality and metaphysics we meet two opposed views; 
One view is that a positive and vital connection exists 
between one's moral life and one's conception of the 
nature of reality, or one's world- view. The opposite 
view is, that morality is independent of any conception 
one may have of ultimate being. Between a man's 
ethical belief and his world-view there is no relation of 
any importance. The upholder of the first view main- 
tains, that the connection between our ethical judgments 
and ideals, and our conception of the real-world of funda- 
mental being, is one of mutual dependence. Our ethical 
valuations, our ethical standards and ideals, are, in a serious 
manner, affected by the world- view we hold. The valuation 
we give to our existence, the consciousness of duty, the recog- 
nition of responsibility, and our moral faiths, are in no 
slight measure determined by what we think of the world 
reality of which we are apart, of its character and relation 
to the interests and aims of our ethical life. On the other 
hand, what we think of the world reality, our conception 
of fundamental being, is determined by our ethical valua- 
tions and ideals. We are impelled to conceive the basal 
reality of the world in a way which will satisfy the demands 
of our moral life. Morality is our supreme interest, we 
cannot rationally believe the nature of things is hostile or in- 
dijBPerent to these supreme values. It cannot be a matter 
of no concern to our moral life, whether the larger, the in- 
clusive reality recognizes and supports our ethical valuations 
and ideals, or is indifferent, nay perhaps hostile to our 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 227 

ethical endeavor. It surely cannot be a matter of no 
importance to us, whether in our moral tasks and struggles 
we believe that a power not ourselves, which makes for 
righteousness, is with us, or whether we are aliens in a 
world that knows us not. 

For the authority of duty, for the justification of our 
devotion to moral ideals, we must look to a larger, a higher 
reality than our human selves. The moral order we did 
not make, it is something not ourselves, and without the 
recognition of it duty loses its authority and its support. 
In short, in our morality, we do not make the moral order 
to which we conform, any more than our science creates, 
instead of discovers, the order of nature. The order of 
nature makes our science possible; the moral order makes 
our morality possible. A moral universe is the postulate 
of our moral life. 

The opposing view maintains, that ethical values are 
created by our actions, and are attached to those actions 
and to their motives. Ethical values and ideals belong to 
our human world, and they are not affected by any con- 
ceptions we may form of the non-human part of the uni- 
verse. The ways of the cosmos do not concern us in 
moral action. Whether the non-human world is for us, 
against us, or indifferent to us, has no significance for 
morality. Morality is a human production; we do not 
ascertain what is morally good by first ascertaining or 
presupposing the goodness of something not ourselves; 
were it necessary to know the nature, the character of the 
world-being, we should never know what is morally good. 
It is only after we have come to know what is good that 
we come to evaluate the universe at large, if we do so at all; 



228 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

and what we find to be ethically good is so, because it affects 
in a certain way the interests, the weMare of human beings. 

No metaphysical belief can affect this valuation of our 
human conduct. Suppose a man is a materialist, he is not 
logically bound to deny ethical values, the validity of moral 
judgments, the authority of duty, etc. The only change 
the acceptance of materialism need make in his view of our 
human life is in the matter of the duration of personal 
existence. Materialism does involve the transitory existence 
of the individual bearers of the moral life; but this shortened 
duration of personal existence does not necessarily affect 
the significance, the importance, of morality. Nor does 
the opposite world- view, idealism, give to our ethical judg- 
ments and valuations a greater interest for our lives. I 
am not at all dependent upon the absolute for the significance 
and value of my ethical consciousness. I am not more 
ethical, because I believe in a divine, trans- or super- 
human reality than I would be did I believe that the non- 
human part of the universe is a most undivine sort of reality. 

Nor are the motives to morality, the sanctions of duty, in 
any way affected by one's metaphysics. Because I am a 
materialist, it does not follow that I should lead an immoral 
life. The fact that I accept absolute idealism does not 
constitute a reason for doing right instead of wrong in my 
conduct toward my human fellows. If I confess total 
ignorance concerning Ultimate Being, I do not thereby 
absolve myself from moral obligation. Whatever makes 
our actions ethically good, is the sole reason we should give 
for performing those actions; the only ethical motive to 
their performance. If there is no God who takes note of 
my deeds and discerns my secret thoughts, and who may 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 229 

reward or punish me according as my deeds are good or 
evil, have I less reason for doing good and avoiding evil 
than I would have, did I believe there is such a Being ? Or, 
have I less reason for doing good to my human fellows while 
I live, if I accept the world-view which has no place for the 
immortality of the individual ? Is it not a purer ethical 
motive, to desire to live in the lives of others, made better by 
our influence, than to desire continued personal existence ? 
We will leave this first special problem with the suggestion 
that the bearing of one's world-view upon his solution of 
the problem of conduct is an open question. Let us proceed 
to the second of the special problems in ethics. 

The Problem of Free-will 

It may be doubted that there is any question in philosophy 
which, despite all the discussion and controversy to which 
it has given rise, remains in so unsatisfactory a condition as 
this question relating to our freedom in moral action. The 
issue itself between* philosophers who maintain what they 
conceive to be free-will, and those who deny what they under- 
stand free-will to mean, is by no means clear. The term 
freedom has different meanings; the following are some of 
them: 

(1) The absence of external restraint or compulsion, the 
ability of a person to do what he wills to do; to act out his 
own nature. 

(2) The ability to act from rational motives, instead of 
impulses, appetites, or passions. To determine one's 
conduct by reason, by conscience. Freedom is ability to 
do one's duty, to determine one's conduct by moral law; 



230 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

"When duty whispers low 'Thou must! 'the youth replies 
•I can!' " 

(3) Freedom means the ability to act otherwise, or to 
have acted otherwise, in a given situation, than one did act 
or is acting in that situation. Now, those who reject free 
will accept the third meaning of that term ; and they oppose 
to this conception of the will the conception of determin- 
ism, the essential meaning of which is, that human actions 
are so related to certain antecedent conditions that, given 
those conditions, this particular action and no other action 
invariably follows. In short, human actions follow from 
their antecedent conditions with the same undeviating 
regularity as events in nature follow from definite antece- 
dents. We say of a physical event, given as known the sum 
total of all the conditions in which it occurs, that event and 
no other was certain to occur, and could have been pre- 
dicted. We can likewise say of a human action given 
as known the character of the actor, and the circumstances 
in which he acts, his deed is certain and as predictable as a 
physical event. Whoever should know the antecedent 
and contemporaneous conditions in which a choice, a de- 
cision, is made, could as infallibly predict that choice as the 
astronomer predicts an eclipse of the moon at a given time. 
The only reason why human actions are incalculable and 
seem to be contingent, is that, owing to the complexity of 
their determining conditions, no human intelligence can 
embrace them all, or even more than a small part of these 
influential circumstances. 

Now, in opposition to this doctrine, the upholder of free- 
will must maintain the contingent character of human actions. 
He must assert that a choice, a decision, is not determined. 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 231 

its occurrence not certain, until it has been made certain. 
Prior to this particular choice or action there was nothing 
which determined that this and not that choice should be 
made, and consequently, even supposing a perfect knowl- 
edge of these antecedent and contemporaneous conditions, 
this choice could not be known in advance of its becoming 
fact. 

The only significant issue between free-will and determin- 
ism turns on this question, are human actions contingent 
events ? The f ree-willist answers this question in the affirm- 
ative, the determinist must answer it in the negative. In- 
asmuch as a contingent event is an un-deteTramed event, this 
issue may be stated in terms of determinism and indeter- 
minism. The term indeterminism is preferable to free-will, 
since it is free from ambiguity, and helps to clarify the issue 
between the two doctrines. The doctrine of ethical inde- 
terminism involves the assumption of a universe in which 
there are absolutely contingent facts, a universe that has in 
it some degree of loose play, a universe that is in part in- 
determinate. This assumption means that there are abso- 
lute novelties occurring in our world, fresh increments of 
reality, positive additions, things which do not grow out of 
what is already real, but are creative increments upon that 
reality. In short, that the real-world is in process of making, 
and has not an already determinate character. 

The opposing doctrine of ethical determinism involves 
the assumption of a universe which is completely determi- 
nate; in which therefore there can be no contingent events; 
in which there can be no real additions, no absolute novelties, 
or increments upon reality already there. The determinist's 
real world is not in process of making, it does not grow. 



232 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

The student will see that the so-called free-will dispute 
involves the doctrines of monism and pluralism. We have 
seen that monism is a deterministic conception of the world, 
while pluralism is indeterministic. It would seem then, 
that whoever upholds the doctrine of determinism should 
also maintain the monistic conception of the world; while 
the consistent upholder of ethical indeterminism will be a 
pluralist. I do not wish to close discussion of this point, 
I will only suggest that metaphysical monism logically goes 
with ethical determinism, and pluralism is the metaphysical 
doctrine which logically goes with ethical indeterminism. 

The dispute between the determinist and the indetermin- 
ist, being primarily a metaphysical one, it would follow that 
the ethical philosopher who accepts the doctrine that ethics 
are independent of metaphysics is not interested in this old 
controversy. He should maintain that neither doctrine 
has any bearing upon the problem of morality. But, as a 
matter of fact, ethical philosophers are still engaged in this 
historic dispute, and accordingly we must include this con- 
troversy in our present study. The central point of the 
controversy relates to the consequences for morality which 
follow the acceptance of either of these doctrines of the will. 
And first let us ask, what are the ethical consequences of 
determinism ? 

The indeterminist is ready with his answer, that these 
consequences are most injurious to morality. He asserts 
that a consistent determinist cannot justify his ethical valua- 
tions, that the distinctions of right and wrong ought to have 
no meaning for him; the ethical judgment should be im- 
possible; he ought not to accept responsibility for his own 
actions, nor hold others accountable for their actions. He 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 233 

should neither approve nor condemn others, nor can he con- 
sistently advocate the infliction of punishment for wrong 
conduct. , 

The determinist denies that any of these consequences 
follow from his doctrine; on the contrary, it is the doctrine 
of mdeterminism which subverts morality, for (he argues) 
if human actions are contingent they are without reason for 
being at all; they are disconnected from other parts of 
reality, and therefore irrational, being inexplicable, and 
since they are irrational they can have no moral value; to 
call them good or bad is to use words without meaning, 
ethical values cannot be attached to such things. Further- 
more, he continues, indeterminism makes responsibility im- 
possible, how can there be responsibility for what is by 
definition contingent, dependent on nothing.? Again, 
indeterminisn, the determinist insists, destroys the founda- 
tion of moral education, moral discipline by punishment. 
The basis of moral training is the assumption that motives, 
reasons, are really efficient in securing desirable conduct, in 
discouraging undesirable conduct. But, if human actions 
are contingent these motives are not effective, and the 
sole reason for instruction and discipline is taken away. 
Thus indeterminism destroys the rational foundation of 
morality. 

On the contrary, the determinist contends that his doc- 
trine is not only compatible with morality, but that it is the 
only doctrine which is compatible with our ethical valuations 
and with our endeavor to maintain morality. Take, for 
instance, the distinctions, right, wrong, good, and bad. 
These valuations, says the determinist, are attached to 
actions because of their bearing upon human welfare, and 



234 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

that is entirely irrespective of their being determined or 
indetermined in the manner of their occurrence. An action 
is good, if it expresses the intention and carries out the in- 
tention to promote human well-being. The goodness of 
that action is in no way affected by the fact that this action 
followed from the character and situation of the man who 
performed this act. Again, take the fact of approbation 
and disapprobation; the justification for this treatment of 
an individual is the influence this expression of the minds 
of his social fellows will have in securing the performance of 
good actions, and the prevention of the performance of 
bad actions. Only on the assumption that approbation and 
disapprobation do operate as real determiners of actions 
can they be justified. It is on ethical grounds that the pub- 
lic disapprobation is justified. The social judgment is a 
potent influence in determining the individual's conduct, 
who more commonly judges his actions by the social stand- 
ard than by a standard of his own creation. Morality is 
largely a matter of social action. It is just because man's 
actions are determined that we can hope to change them by 
the strong determinant of social judgment, especially when 
that judgment takes effect in punishment. Determinism 
alone serves the great interest of morality, by making effec- 
tive the encouragement to good conduct and the deterrative 
from bad conduct. 

In this way will the upholder of determinism defend 
his doctrine against the objection that it is incompatible 
with our ethical judgments and our enforcement of them. 

But against the determinist's position the indeterminist 
maintains that regret and disapprobation lose their force 
if determinism is the true doctrine. The sting of moral 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 235 

regret is taken out of it if the judgment, "It might have 
been" is illusive. The possibility of a different action in 
the place of the one disapproved of is the sine qua non of 
disapprobation which has any ethical significance. I can 
regret something which was fated to occur, in the sense of 
wishing something else had been fated; but there is no 
ethical character in such a regret. The fact, that mani- 
fested disapprobation is a determinant of a more desirable 
kind of conduct, does not justify the disapprobation, unless 
the action disapproved of merited that disapprobation. 
Take away the demerit of the action, and the disapproba- 
tion is without rational ground. To take away the possi- 
bility of acting otherwise, is to take away from that action its 
demerit: and this is what determinism does. 

(2) Determinism destroys morality, because it destroys 
moral agency. A moral agent is a being who is an originat- 
ing center of action, to whom an action can be carried back 
for final judgment, for imputation. In the system of deter- 
minism there is no such originating agency; only in appear- 
ance is the human individual such an originating agency; 
in reality he is not an agent, but a transmitter, a continuator, 
a sort of distributing center of determining agencies, or 
influences which have their origin elsewhere, and only pass 
through him. The attempt of the determinist to save per- 
sonal responsibility by saying that the individual determines 
himself in his action, that the action expresses his own self 
or character, is a vain expedient. In consistent deter- 
minism, there is no seZ/-determination. The determining 
does not originate in this self^ but in those conditions what- 
ever they are, which have mM,de this self. This very self 
is a resultant of the sum total of determining agencies and 



236 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

circumstances. To say that a man's character determines 
his action, is to overlook the fact that in this scheme a man 
does not make his character, and that whatever makes a 
man's character must be the explainer of his action. 

But the determinist will reply that there is imputed to 
him the doctrine of fatalism, and that doctrine he as heart- 
ily repudiates as does the indeterminist. Determinism and 
Fatalism are totally different doctrines. He says, "I fully 
admit that fatalism is incompatible with moral responsibility, 
indeed with the ethical character of actions ; but my doctrine 
in an ethical respect is as far removed from fatalism, as the 
East is from the West." To this the indeterminist replies. 
"This is just the point of my attack, your doctrine is 
fatalism, when made thoroughgoing and consistent. For 
the essence of fatalism is predetermination; and in the last 
analysis this predetermination must be carried back to, and 
lodged in those first things which once laid down, carry the 
certainty of all later things. Therefore, in tracing back the 
determiners of human action, you cannot stop with the 
human individual, his circumstances at the time; you must 
go back to his inheritance, to his ancestors, back also to 
anterior circumstances which determined the immediate 
circumstances of the action. And where can you stop in 
this regress, short of those first things, before the beginning 
of time ? In short, every fact which you would say is a 
determiner of this present action, is itseK but a link in a chain 
of determiners, running back into an infinite past, or away 
to the bounds of the universe — if it have bounds. A deter- 
ministic universe involves this fate of the individual and 
his action. To say that this individual act was determined, 
and to say it was fated, is to use two expressions for essen- 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 237 

tially the same thing. If therefore moraltiy is incompatible 
with fatahsm, it is equally incompatible with determinism." 

With this last objection to determinism the indeterminist 
returns to the defence of his own doctrine; and it must be 
admitted that the doctrine encounters serious difficulties 
when confronted with facts. Some of these facts have been 
pointed out by the determinist, namely the fact of moral 
education, use of instruction, correction, etc., to ensure better 
conduct, the infliction of punishment with a view to deter 
from the commission of socially undesirable actions. To 
these may be added the extension of the law of habit over 
our moral actions, the influence of character, of the circum- 
stances in which one acts, appetites, passions, the solicita- 
tions and suggestions of other individuals, in short the entire 
context of each action we perform. Again, the fact that we 
predict human actions with a considerable degree of success, 
that sciences are based upon uniformities of human action. 
Now, is it possible to harmonize these indisputable facts 
with the theory of indeterminism ?" 

The indeterminist answers, "These facts are no objec- 
tions to my theory if that theory is rightly understood. In- 
determinism does not mean that there is no determination 
in that part of the universe which includes our human 
actions; the doctrine asserts the existence of undetermined, 
of contingent things; and it asserts that there is contingency, 
indetermination, in the case of our choices, or our actions. 
The indeterminist conception of the universe does not 
mean that there are no such things in the universe as uni- 
formities, habits, coherency, logical consistency, the influ- 
ence of one thing on another, of mind upon mind. The 
doctrine denies that this determination is absolute, to the 



238 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

exclusion of alternative possibilities, of truly open points 
for fresh beginnings." 

"In respect to our actions, indeterminism asserts that 
every action of the will has in it an element of originality, 
something not contained in what already is in its anteced- 
ents; and therefore that particular action could not be in- 
fallibly predicted, even did some mind possess complete 
knowledge of all its antecedents. This action in a way can 
be explained after it has come to be actual, but it was not 
forseeable while it was a possibility. Now this factor of 
originality which carries the possibility of acting otherwise, 
in the sense that this particular action was not the only 
possible one, coexists with other factors which are of a differ- 
ent nature; they are such factors as routine, appetites, 
desires, thought, reasoning, etc., so that our actual world 
presents a mixture of determination and indetermination, 
neither of which is the absolute feature of the world. Of 
course, such a universe cannot be the closed system of 
monism, for, as we have seen, in that universe there can be 
nothing really new; and consequently that universe is 
through and through deterministic. But — concludes the 
indeterminist — need the world be that of the pluralist? 
May there not be room for all the indeterminism which 
morality calls for in a world in which there is One who is 
Creator and Supreme Ruler, whose will is done, but done 
through wills that are really ours, and are free ? No thinker 
has yet shown how there can be such a universe; but equally 
true is it, that no thinker has demonstrated its impossibility. 
Such being the state of our knowledge, are we not free to 
postulate the sort of universe which offers the most satis- 
fying solution of the ethical problem ?" 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 239 

The Problem of the Good and the Ethical End 

The conception of good presupposes a conscious being; 
and the good which possesses ethical significance presupposes 
that the conscious being is man. In terms of human con- 
sciousness, we may define a good as that in which a human 
being finds satisfaction. It is the object of desire, which 
when attained, brings a satisfying form of experience. 

We first note: some distinctions in good, or kinds of 
good. 

A good may be the state of one's own being or self. Thus 
pleasure is a good, so is intelligence, power, success, virtue, 
etc. A good is anything which is adapted to produce a 
desirable state of being. Thus wealth, friends, social 
position, fortune in any form, are goods — good things. 

Again, good is ultimate, supreme, or relative, proximate, 
subordinate. Ultimate good is that which is good in itself 
considered, good on its own account, desired for its own 
sake. Relative good is that which is good only in relation 
to something else, good for something. Thus, pleasure is 
regarded by some ethical philosophers as the ultimate good, 
while knowledge, wealth, fame, and virtue are good, be- 
cause they conduce to pleasurable consciousness. 

Once more; a distinction is made between natural good 
and ethical or moral good. This distinction is fundamental 
in ethics, and at the same time, it constitutes a problem for 
the ethical philosopher. Types of ethical theories are dis- 
tinguished by the conception of the moral good, or moral 
goodness, which is made the basis in each theory. For 
our present purpose, a distinction in the meaning of the 
terms is sufficient, and it may be made in the following way. 



240 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

We can give the predicate, moral good, only to a person, to 
a person's character, disposition, motives, and actions. 
The powers, capabilities, which this person possesses are 
natural goods. He acquires moral goodness, according to 
his use of these powers. A person is not morally good by 
nature, the person becomes morally good only through 
action and by habit. The morally good always presupposes 
natural good. Unless there were something which is 
naturally good there could be nothing which is morally good; 
the moral good is created by the exercise, the pursuit, the 
use of natural good. It is the function of ethics to de- 
termine in what way the pursuit of natural good, the use 
of natural good, creates moral good. 

One more distinction, and we pass to the special problem 
which gives the title of this section. The term good in its 
moral signification is used interchangeably with the term 
right, and bad with the term wrong; but these terms reflect 
a distinction in points of view, and point back to ethical 
conceptions which are quite distinct and between which 
the distinction is not unimportant. Right, in its ethical 
significance, implies an authoritative rule or standard of 
judgment, it signifies conformity to this rule or standard. 
An action or purpose is right, if it conforms to this rule or 
standard; an action which does not conform to this rule is 
wrong. Good implies an end or result which the action 
tends to realize or to produce. A good action is one which 
tends to produce a desirable result, and is adapted to attain 
some end that is good; a bad action is one which has the 
opposite tendency. Now, these two ways of looking at 
actions and of judging their character, characterize two 
different methods of determining the ethical character of 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 241 

conduct, two ways of judging conduct. The one is formal- 
istic, the other is teleological. These terms very clearly 
bring out the difference between these two methods in 
ethics. Formalistic ethics makes the conformity of an 
action to a rule, or law, or command, the criterion of its 
goodness. Teleological ethics on the other hand makes 
adaptation to an end, to a result, the criterion of the good- 
ness in actions. In formalistic ethics, the standard of judg- 
ment is a rule, law, command; in teleological ethics the 
standard of judgment is an end, to which the action 
tends. 

But a more important difference is apt to be associated 
with this difference in methods of ethical judgment. Form- 
alism in ethics may go farther than the criterion by which 
the judgment is determined. Thus, I may hold that my 
conscience as the enouncement of moral law enables me to 
know when my conduct is right; but 1 may hold also that 
this conduct is not ethically; good merely because my con- 
science, or moral law, commands it; I may maintain that the 
goodness of the action consists in the conduciveness of this 
action to welfare. I may hold that action derives its good- 
ness from the end it seeks, and not the rule it follows, or 
the law it obeys. But I may go farther in my formalism, 
and maintain that the goodness of my action consists solely 
in its being conformed to moral law; I may maintain that 
my action is good, only if I obey moral law because moral 
law commands. I shall therefore say, my action is not 
good because it is adapted to an end, but because it obeys 
a law or a command. Thus, formalistic and teleological 
ethics may signify two profoundly different types of ethical 
theory. 



242 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

But it is time to close this preliminary discussion and take 
up our problem, the good, the aim of life. The good 
which the problem contemplates is ultimate or highest good. 
And our problem can be formulated in the question. What 
is man's ultimate good, the ultimate end of action, and the 
standard of ethical value ? In answer to this question we 
meet three theories : 

1. The theory of hedonism. 

2. Energism, or the theory which makes perfection of 
life the ultimate good. 

3. The theory which makes the good will or duty for 
duty's sake the highest good. 

We begin with the theory of hedonism. This doctrine 
must be carefully defined; for misconceptions of the doc- 
trine have been at the bottom of much of the adverse criti- 
cism it has encountered. The general doctrine asserts, that 
pleasurable consciousness, or happiness, is the ultimate 
good, the final end of action, and the standard of ethical 
judgment. Hedonism presents two forms, according as 
this pleasurable consciousness is that of the individual, or 
that of the greatest number of beings whose happiness is 
considered in the action under view. The first form of 
hedonism it is customary to call egoism, or egoistic hedon- 
ism. The second is more commonly called utilitarianism; 
but it is more appropriately called universalistic hedonism. 
The egoistic hedonist maintains that the only maximum 
happiness he is bound to take as his ultimate good is his 
own happiness; that he can regard the happiness of others 
so far as the promotion of their happiness is a means to the 
attainment of his own greatest happiness, or only so far as 
regard for the happiness of others does not interfere with 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 243 

the pursuit of his own maximum happiness. The uni- 
versaHstic hedonist or utiHtarian asserts that the greatest 
possible happiness or pleasurable consciousness which the 
individual is bound to consider in his action is that of the 
greatest possible number of beings who can be affected by 
human action. 

It is the general doctrine only that will occupy us at 
present. Let us get the meaning of this theory accurately 
determined. The hedonist does not mean that this maxi- 
mal happiness is always or should always be the conscious 
aim of the individual in his action. The individual may be 
unable to see any connection between the particular action 
he is about to perform, or is contemplating, and this greatest 
possible happiness. He may be quite unable to determine 
whether an action he is about to perform is in itself 
adapted to produce more happiness than misery; and conse- 
quently were a forecast of the results of his action as bearing 
upon maximal happiness the condition of his acting ethically, 
it would be impossible for the individual to act wisely in any 
situation, since he could not tell whether his purposed action 
would be a good or a bad action. The theory does not 
mean that the individual is to guide his conduct by any 
connection he can discern between that conduct and greatest 
happiness. The end by which the individual is to guide his 
action, is the proximate, not ultimate, end; such ends are, 
for instance, honesty, veracity, justice, etc., or rather the 
moral rules which enjoin these forms of action; conformity 
with moral laws or customs which have become established 
in the society to which he belongs may be the proximate ends 
at which the individual directly aims, and by which he deter 
mines the moral quality of his actions. Established moral 



244 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

rules are for the individual in moral action what guide-boards 
are for the traveller who knows his ultimate destination, 
but does not know the best road which will take him there. 
The individual may seek the greatest possible happiness as 
the ultimate good, but he may not know by what ways of 
acting he can attain that destination of his will. Moral 
rules, the recognized virtues, are guide-boards, which tell 
him the sort of actions which are best adapted to reach the 
end he seeks. Therefore, if he will attain the ultimate good, 
which he assumes to be happiness, he must give his attention 
to the guide-boards, he must obey moral law, practice the 
virtues of truth, honesty, justice, etc. 

Again, hedonism is not incompatible with the fact that 
the individual is and should be interested in other things 
than happiness, that he may come to value other objects, and 
think they are supremely desirable for their own sake, nay^ 
may he find more pleasure in the pursuit of them than in 
the pursuit of his happiness. The individual who gives 
his attention almost exclusively to the moral guide-boards — 
intent upon the practice of virtues; and forming the habit 
of obeying moral rules, and consequently experiencing 
the desirable consequences of so acting, may come to identify 
these proximate ends with the ultimate good, these means 
with the end, so that he transfers the interest of the end to 
the means, just as a sportsman may come to find the pleasure 
of pursuit greater than the pleasure of getting the game, 
and he may say he hunts for the sake of hunting, he fishes 
for the pleasure of fishing and not in order to catch fish. 
But the hedonist philosopher maintains that when we sit 
down in a cool hour and reflect upon our actions, we dis- 
cover that their conduciveness to happiness is the only 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 245 

satisfactory reason that can be given for performing what 
we call good actions, and the only thing which makes our 
interest in them a rational interest. The miser, in conse- 
quence of habitual association of money with his ruling 
passion, may think that money is the supreme good, and 
may love money itself; but it is some other end to which 
money is a means which justifies his interest in money. 
That an interest in something which is not happiness con- 
trols conduct, is quite compatible with the theory of hedon- 
ism. The theory requires that we keep distinct the practical 
problem of means and the problem of the end. The essence 
of the hedonist's doctrine is, that our human existence is 
ultimately desirable, because of the pleasurable conscious- 
ness it yields, and that our actions have moral quality accord- 
ing as they tend to promote this kind of existence. 

We come next to the proof of hedonism. The first proof 
is drawn from the conception of human welfare or well- 
being. Reflective analysis of our meaning when we think 
of the ultimately desirable kind of human existence leads to 
the discernment that this ultimately valuable kind of exist- 
ence is this state of consciousness. We can evaluate other 
things only according as they tend to issue in this form of con- 
sciousness. Happy consciousness is the only state or condi- 
tion of being in which our rational activity can come to rest. 
The only kind of experience, be it action or state, of which 
we cannot ask for what is it good, or why is it good and de- 
sirable, is pleasurable consciousness. Here our quest for 
ultimate good ends, because it has reached its goal. 

The second proof of hedonism is the fact that, if happi- 
ness were to cease, if no beings could be either happy or 
miserable, there would be neither good nor bad actions. 



246 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

Our value judgments would lose their basis. The inference 
from this fact is, that it is their conduciveness to happiness 
or to the opposite condition that gives to actions their good- 
ness or badness. 

The third reason in support of hedonism is, that this 
doctrine affords a basis on which alone the conflicting judg- 
ments on particular actions can be harmonized. The 
discrepancies in ethical judgments which we encounter in 
current morality are readily removed, if we accept the hedon- 
istic standard of ultimate judgment. The method of pro- 
cedure by which in the morality of common sense we do 
harmonize discrepant judgments tacitly presupposes the 
hedonistic criterion of good conduct. In fact, the whole 
body of moral rules which make up current morality is in- 
telligible and tenable only If these rules or laws are inter- 
preted as middle axioms, which define the form of conduct 
or kind of actions through which maximal happiness can 
be secured. Our accepted moral rules and standards sup- 
port the theory of hedonism. 

Their origin is best explained if we assume that hedonistic 
valuation has led to the selection of these forms of conduct 
as the forms which are best adapted to attain maximal 
happiness. 

OBJECTIONS TO THE THEORY OF HEDONISM 

Hedonism, though it is upheld by some of the ablest 
ethical philosophers, has never gained popular support; 
and it has against it the larger number of philosophical 
thinkers. The following are perhaps the most serious 
difl&culties which the theory encounters. 

First, it is objected to this theory that the only consistent 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 247 

form of hedonism is egoism. The theory which makes 
pleasure the ultimate good, logically leads to a selfish theory 
of life. There is no reasoning by which the egoist can be 
convinced that it is his duty to regard anybody's happiness 
but his own. He can be led to see that it is his interest to 
promote the happiness of his fellowmen, if he would secure 
a maximum of happiness for himself. Society, by its favor 
and disapprobation, may so affect the individual who is 
disposed to seek his own well-being only, that the welfare of 
others may become an interest for him. But, that interest 
is not an interest in the happiness of others on their account, 
but solely on his own account. The egoist reasons in this 
way: If the greatest possible happiness is the ultimate good, 
this end is more likely to be attained if each individual makes 
his own happiness his end than it would be, did each make 
the happiness of others his end, because the individual 
knows better what will secure his own happiness than he can 
possibly know what will promote the happiness of others. 
How then can the egoist be reasonably convinced that it is 
his duty to seek universal happiness as the ultimate good, 
and not his own happiness ? Such is the first objection to 
hedonism. 

Against this reasoning the utilitarian maintains that, 
since the greatest possible happiness is the ultimate end, the 
happiness of one individual is worth no more than the happi- 
ness of another. Each individual counts for one, and no 
one counts for more than one, in the distribution of happi- 
ness. The egoistic hedonist, consequently, contradicts 
the fundamental doctrine of hedonism, which does not 
permit the individual to value his own happiness more 
highly than the happiness of others. The egoist if he re- 



248 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

mains a hedonist cannot justify the supreme value he puts 
upon his own happiness. 

The second objection which is made to hedonism is to 
this effect; consistent hedonism can recognize no difference 
in the quahty of pleasure. The theory permits only a 
quantitative estimation of pleasure, only a quantitative 
scale of valuation; one pleasure should be preferred to an- 
other pleasure solely because it is greater in amount, not 
because it is better in kind. Now, the hedonist cannot admit 
that pleasures differ in quality without surrendering his 
fundamental position; for, to say that the pleasure A is a 
better sort of pleasure than the pleasure B, or that it is a 
higher, a nobler pleasure, involves the reference to a stand- 
ard of valuation which is itself not pleasure; and that in- 
volves the admission that something is ultimately valuable 
which is not pleasure. Now, the denial of a qualitative 
difference in pleasures goes squarely against universal judg- 
ment. One of the clearest distinctions we make in our valu- 
ations is that between kinds of happiness. We unhesitat- 
ingly say the pleasure of a man is more desirable than the 
pleasure of a pig, even did the pig have the larger amount 
of pig satisfaction. Everybody assents to John Stuart 
Mill's dictum, "It is better to be a man unsatisfied, than a 
satisfied pig." Who would not prefer the lot of a Socrates 
to the pleasure of the happiest pig that ever grunted in his 
complete pig satisfaction ? 

Opponents of hedonism have seen in this objection a 
fatal dilemma for the hedonist. If he rejects the qualitative 
difference in pleasures, he must run against the surest fact 
in our ethical valuations. If he admits this qualitative 
difference, he logically abandons his theory; for he can jus- 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 249 

tif y this difference in kind only as he appeals to a standard 
of valuation which is other than pleasure. 

But cannot the hedonist face this dilemma, and challenge 
the proposition of the objector? "Why cannot pleasures 
as pleasures differ in quality as well as in degree?" the 
Hedonist asks. "Why cannot one pleasure be different 
from another in its quality, just as one sensation differs 
from another in its quality ? Wh.y do not qualities belong 
to pleasures as pleasures, as definite states of consciousness, 
just as qualities belong to sensations as definite states of 
consciousness ? Does the anti-hedonist reply. That which 
makes one pleasure better, or higher, than another, is the 
better function or power which yields it, the better mind, 
which experiences the pleasure?" The hedonist will on 
his part maintain that the function is better, or nobler, 
because it yields a better, a finer pleasure, the function, the 
power, or the mind is evaluated according to the quality 
of the pleasurable consciousness, which the function pro- 
duces, or which characterizes the person we call the better 
or nobler in the scale of valuation. 

Thus does the hedonist justify his assertion that pleasures 
can differ in quality as well as in quantity, and the doc- 
trine of Hedonism still be true. But at this point the hedon- 
istic theory meets a third objection. This objection is, that 
Hedonism reverses the true relation between the good and 
pleasurable consciousness. Hedonism asserts that some- 
thing is good, because it produces pleasure, the pleasure- 
producing tendency is that wherein the goodness of an 
action or an object consists; whereas the relation is the re- 
verse, something is first good, and because good it produces 
a pleasurable consciousness. The hedonist's fallacy is this : 



250 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

since good is the object of desire, and the satisfaction of 
desire is pleasant, this pleasure is the good which is desired; 
whereas, that which satisfies desire is something entirely 
distinct from the pleasure which attends the satisfaction of 
that desire. The pleasure is not that which satisfies the 
desire, but the sign that the desire is satisfied. Pleasure 
is not that which our will seeks as its end, but the indicator 
that the will has attained its end. The normal functioning 
of the organism is pleasurable, but it does not follow from 
this fact that pleasurable consciousness is that for the sake 
of which the functioning takes place, or is that which gives 
the value to organic actions. 

The hedonist meets this objection by the straight denial 
that he supports his doctrine by the reasoning attributed 
to him. It is not from the fact that we experience pleasure 
in the attainment of the object of desire that he infers that 
pleasure is the object of desire, nor does he conclude from 
the biological fact that the normal exercise of the organism 
is pleasurable, that pleasure is the biological aim. The 
hedonist's contention is, that we cannot make any other 
form of good than a felicific consciousness, an ultimate end 
of rational pursuit. That the standard of ultimate valua- 
tion is pleasurable consciousness. And the reasons in 
support of this proposition he has already given. The 
hedonist accordingly will maintain that this objection does 
not touch his position. 

But what looks to be a more serious objection to hedon- 
ism is the hedonist's conception of pleasure, or better, the 
way in which the hedonist treats pleasure. The substance 
of this fourth objection is, that the hedonist treats pleasure 
as if it could be dissociated from the persons whose pleasure 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 251 

is being considered; as if a pleasure of a definite amount or 
kind could be the same in any two individuals. The hedon- 
ist appears to assume that pleasure is like a quantity of 
goods, which can be divided into equal parts or quantities, 
and be distributed among so many individuals. The hedon- 
ist apparently supposes the happiness of persons can be 
made an end apart from the persons themselves who are to 
be made happy. 

"Happiness," the objection continues "is not something 
which can be considered in abstraction from personalities, 
and when we include persons in the ethical aim we must 
include what is not happiness, but that which gives to happi- 
ness its meaning and value. It is the persons who are 
happy, and not happiness apart from these persons, which 
ethical theory must make fundamental in determining the 
signifi.cance of pleasure, and its place in a rational scheme 
of life." 

The hedonist can say in answer to this objection: Not- 
withstanding the fact that individuals differ in respect to 
the sources of their happiness, so that no two individuals are 
happy for just the same reasons, it is the happiness of each 
individual which is the ultimately desirable thing for that in- 
dividual, and the standard by which he must rationally 
value all other things. It is important to distinguish be- 
tween the hedonist's doctrine of value and the hedonist's 
method by which he would practically realize his ideal. 
The objection last made does not affect the theory of value, 
since that only asserts that maximum happiness, however 
it may be obtained, is the ultimate good. Whatever force 
the objection has, must be in its bearing upon the hedonistic 
method of obtaining maximum happiness. Nor is it true 



252 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

that hedonism as a method needs to make the sort of 
assumption or to proceed in the manner which the objection 
alleges. The practical problem for the hedonist is to 
ascertain in what way the greatest happiness of the greatest 
number can best be secured. The hedonist does not 
suppose this happiness can be secured in disregard of the 
persons themselves, their individualities of temperament, 
mode of life, circumstances and ideals. No hedonist pro- 
poses to make happiness dissociated from human individuals 
a practical aim. Experience has taught man to some ex- 
tent in what ways happiness can be attained; the hedonist 
follows these ways. As fast as man by experience in living 
with his fellows shall find out other or better ways in which 
this maximum happiness of all can be provided the hedonist 
will adopt these ways. He is willing to admit that he is far 
from the satisfactory solution of the practical problem, how 
to bring to all the ultimate good. But this very imperfect 
realization of the ethical ideal is no objection to the ideal 
itseK. It can well be true, that happiness is our being's 
end and aim, though we come very far short of its attain- 
ment. The hedonist concludes concerning this last ob- 
jection that his theory is in no manner affected by it, and 
as an objection to his method it is not relevant, since his 
method does not involve the false assumptions that are 
credited to his doctrine. 

But hedonism must face one more objection. It is this. 
The theory of hedonism is contradicted by the testimony 
of all great literature, of the biographies of great men, by 
the deeds of the heroes and martyrs of the race. Human 
nature in its great moments, in its great achievements in art, 
in literature, and in history, has been impelled by other 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 253 

motives than regard for happiness either of the individual 
or the happiness of the race. The splendid heroisms the 
sublime devotion to principles, to great causes, which 
command our admiration and reverence have been possible 
only because the hero, the martyr, valued something higher 
than happiness either for himself or for others. The lesson 
borne in from man's life in the past is that a higher than 
happiness has called out from him all his greatest, his 
noblest, his most beneficent actions. The highest happiness 
has come to the individual and to others, only when the 
individual has aimed at something other than happiness 
for himself and for others. The hedonist has the great 
experience of the race against him. 

The hedonist will for answer to this objection content 
himself with a single question, "Suppose the cause in which 
the hero fights or the martyr dies was one which brought 
only misery to mankind, suppose the ideal of the best life 
which we find in art or in literature was adapted only to 
cause unhappiness were it real, would we justify the devo- 
tion and the sacrifice of the hero and the martyr, or would 
we approve of the ideal presented in a work of art or in 
literature P If we could not do this, how can the inference 
be avoided that when we come to final valuation and ulti- 
mate good, happiness of life is that good ?" 

But it is time to pass on to the second ethical theory, the 
theory which makes the realization of human capabilities 
the ultimate good and the aim of life. According to this 
theory it is life itself, the exercise and the perfection of it 
through the exercise of living functions, in which man's 
good consists. Energism is one name for this doctrine, 
since the essential feature of it is the emphasis put upon the 



254 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

activity side of our life. Good does not primarily consist in a 
state of conscious existence, nor in a kind of consciousness, 
whether felicific as hedonism supposes or otherwise, but in 
action, and in the unfolding and perfection of our nature. 
In short, ultimate good consists in the fullness of life and 
in the exercise of life. Self-realization is another name for 
this doctrine; but this term requires modijQcation in the 
customary meaning of it, otherwise it would designate a 
doctrine of egoism. The Self whose realization constitutes 
the good is not that of the individual only, but a seK which is 
common to this individual and all other selves. Accord- 
ing to this meaning of the self, the individual cannot set 
before himself his own ultimate good, without also setting 
before himself as the good he is bound to realize the good 
of every other individual self. No one can find his own 
true good, who does not find it in a good which is com- 
mon to him and all other selves. To make the most of one's 
self and of other selves is the meaning of this doctrine, 
stated in terms of self-realization. 

So much for the meaning of the theory. In proceeding 
to discuss this doctrine, we note first its relation to hedon- 
ism. This theory gives a place to happiness as a constituent 
of ultimate good; happiness is the normal attendant and 
result of the exercise and development of life, but it is not 
happiness which gives to life its supreme value. Even 
were it true for every individual, that the complete develop- 
ment of himself brought with it complete happiness, the 
worth of his life would not be measured by that happiness, 
rather would it be the value of his developed life which 
would determine the value of his happiness. 

But this theory of the good encounters difficulties which its 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 255 

advocates generally have not seriously considered. The first 
is this : The theory can make no clear and distinct separa- 
tion between the end itself, and the means by which the end 
is to be attained. The same thing is alternately means and 
end. If the question is, "What is the end of life ?" the an- 
swer must be, "Its own complete realization or fulfillment." 
When asked what are the means by which this realiza- 
tion is to be afl^ected the answer must be in terms of the 
same capabilities, the realization of which constitutes the 
end or the good sought. The upholder of this doctrine does 
not deny that to some extent the doctrine involves this 
circular process of what seem to be alternate means and 
ends. But he points out a like process in our interpretation 
of every organism. The end of the organism is the harmo- 
nious and complete development of itself or its species; 
the means by which this end is attained is the exercise of 
the same functions, in whose complete realization the per- 
fection of the organism consists. The fulness of life is the 
end, and this end is attained by living; but in reality this 
fulness and perfect development of life is not identical with 
the mere functioning of the special organs taken in their sum 
total; it has a meaning and a value which is entirely distinct; 
means and end are not identical things in organic develop- 
ment. So with the moral life; end and means do not coin- 
cide; we can say that the relation between the end and the 
specific activities by which the end is attained is an organic 
one; but this final stage in the development of the moral 
organism is the end, which, existing as idea, directs the 
actions by which it is to be realized, and as ultimate good is 
the standard for evaluating each activity, each exercise of 
living function through which as means this good is realized. 



256 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

But we meet a more serious difficulty when we try to 
define the regulative principle for the system of activities, 
the different modes of conduct, in which this self-realiza- 
tion consists. Clearly there must be some principle of this 
sort; for the exercise of each capability or power cannot be 
absolute, some limit must be set to the exercise and develop- 
ment of the special functions of our nature. 

The development sought must be that of an organism; it 
must be the systematic and harmonious development of all 
our human capabilities. Now, here is the problem, To 
find the regulative principle, or conception, which will 
secure this system of duly proportioned and harmonious 
actions. How shall this regulative and evaluating principle 
be found ? Shall we seek it in some one of our human 
functions? If so, which one shall it be? Shall we fall 
back upon the theory of an innate intuition, an a priori 
principle, as the rationalists do ? We have seen how 
futile that method is. We can no more assume that an 
ethical intuition or a priori informant enables us to know 
when we are on the right road to our moral goal, than we 
can assume a corresponding intuition to guide us in reaching 
the goal of knowledge. But suppose this principle has 
been found ; must it not be something which is distinct from 
the special powers or functions themselves, the balanced 
and harmonious exercise of which secures the moving 
equilibrium, on which the perfection of life depends ? Here 
is the advantage which hedonism possesses. It supplies a 
regulative principle and a standard of relative evaluation. 
Happiness as the end is clearly distinct from the activities, 
or conduct, by which it is produced; it can therefore be a 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 257 

regulative principle for determining the relative value of 
each special function and in its exercise. 

Now, if this theory we are examining does have a regulative 
principle which is distinct from the exercise of functions, 
of life, must it not be this something, whatever it is, and not 
the mere living itself, which is also the standard of value^ 
and consequently is itself the ultimate good ? The advocate 
of the Self-realization theory can reply. That it would be 
perfectly consistent to take happiness as the regulative 
principle in question; for, assuming that maximal pleasure 
coincides with the perfection of life, the perfect exercise of 
living functions, this happiness would be the criterion of the 
right and successful exercise of life; it would be the sign 
that life had attained its goal, its ultimate good; but it 
would not follow that this happy consciousness is itself the 
end or the ultimate good. The difference between hedon- 
ism and this theory is in their interpretation of happiness, 
its significance in the ethical life, hedonism making happi- 
ness the goal. Mobile the perfection theory makes it the sign 
that the goal has been reached. 

We come now to the third conception of the good, the 
theory which holds that ultimate good is the good will, the 
goodness of this will consisting in its obedience to moral law, 
solely because moral law commands this unconditional 
obedience. Duty for duty's sake is another name for this 
theory. The difference between this conception of morality, 
and the conception which the other two theories share, is a 
radical one. The other theories are teleological ; the pecul- 
iarity of this third theory is its attempt to make the form of 
action its goodness, and the end of action. It is the attempt 
to unite a teleological meaning of conduct with formalistic 



258 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

ethics. The theory we are now to examine is that of Kant, 
whose famous dictum of the good will is familiar to all 
students in ethics. Kant declares that the only thing 
which is absolutely, unconditionally good, in this world or 
any other, is the good will. This will is good in and of 
itself, and not because of anything which it produces, or 
any consequences which flow from it. In answer to the 
question, what makes the will good, the Kantian answer is, 
the conformity of this will to moral law, or the categorical 
imperative of duty. It is obedience to moral law because 
it is moral law, and therefore from the sole motive of duty, 
which makes the will good. Now it is this goodness of 
the will, or the character of the person which consists in 
the disposition to obey moral law or to do always one's 
duty for duty's sake, which is at the same time the ultimate 
good, the end which man should set before himself for 
complete realization. 

In discussing this theory of morality, we will begin with 
an interesting feature it presents, namely, the peculiar place 
it gives to happiness in the moral life. Happiness being a 
natural good, something which all human beings do seek, 
the pursuit of it cannot be moral good, nor its opposite, 
i.e., it cannot have moral significance. And yet morality is 
concerned with happiness. In three ways does the good 
will have to do with this universal human interest. (1) 
Inasmuch as happiness is a natural good, in which man 
naturally seeks satisfaction, happiness may make it easier 
to fulfill the law of duty, a happy life may be more efficient 
in virtue, and therefore it is a part of the obedience to moral 
law to seek happiness for one's self and for others. 

(2) Again, happiness being so large an interest, our action 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 259 

is largely occupied in securing happiness, and we cannot avoid 
affecting each other's well-being, according as we aid or 
interfere with the attainment of this natural good. Conse- 
quently, moral law commands that no one seek happiness 
for himself, if by so doing he diminishes the happiness of 
his fellowmen. 

(3) Since happiness is a natural good, without which 
human life is not completely satisfied, the complete good of 
man must include happiness as a constituent part. Now 
the happiness which is essential to the complete good is 
happiness that is proportional to moral desert. It is that 
which must be added to righteousness to give blessedness. 
The morally good man cannot, by his own power or by his 
good will, make himself happy in proportion to his desert 
of happiness; all he can do as a moral agent, is to create 
goodness, and to merit happiness. The moral order of 
the world alone can unite happiness and goodness in the 
personal life. But if a man makes himself worthy of happi- 
ness, he can rationally expect to become as happy as he 
deserves to be; he can trust the moral order of the world 
sometime, if not in this life, in the life after death, to give 
to his life this necessary completion. 

Examining this theory more closely, we shall find that the 
most serious difiiculty it encounters springs from its form- 
alistic conception of morality. The moral law is without 
content. The categorical imperative does not tell us what 
it is our duty to do. Merely to be told that we must obey 
moral law, or do our duty, does not enlighten us in the most 
important matter, namely, what we are to do in obeying 
moral law. We ask. What does moral law command ? 
and it is no answer to this question to be told that it com- 



260 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

mands us to obey moral law; that is mere tautology. Or, 
suppose our question is. What is the ultimate good ? We 
are answered, The goodness of the will, in other words being 
good; and if we ask, how are we to attain this end? the 
answer must be — must it not ? — by being good. Thus are 
end and means identical; the action becomes its own end, 
and we are condemned to the fruitless labor of moving in a 
circle. 

The Kantian doctrine seeks to obviate this difficulty by 
means of what may be called the maxim of duty, which is. 
Act only from that maxim which you can will to be law uni- 
versal. This maxim is based upon the assumed universality 
of moral law, i.e., on the assumption that what is duty for 
one person in a given situation, would be duty for everybody 
in that situation ; hence the maxim ajffords a means of deter- 
mining whether the action one contemplates in a particular 
situation is or is not the action moral law commands. To 
use one of Kant's illustrations: Suppose a man who holds 
the property of another in trust should be inclined to appro- 
priate that money for his own uses. He could test the moral- 
ity of the proposed action by asking himself if he could will 
that every man in the same situation should do the same 
thing, in other words, could he will that the maxim he pro- 
poses should be made law universal ? Thus does the Kant- 
ian theory seem to obviate the difficulty we have raised, 
and to meet the objection that its formalism makes it im- 
practicable. The moral law does seem to supply a criterion 
of duty, it does seem possible to know when we are obeying 
moral law. 

But is this maxim susceptible of universal application ? 
Does it in every instance afford a criterion of duty ? And is 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 2G1 

the assumption on which it is based an unquestionable one, 
namely, whatever it is right for one man to do, it is right 
for every man to do in the same situation ? To recur to 
Kant's illustration of a man who, overwhelmed by calam- 
ities, is contemplating suicide. Might it not be right for 
this man to end a life that has become insupportable, while 
it would not be right for every man to do so in the same 
situation ? But, granting that Kant's maxim of duty is 
not open to this criticism, the really vulnerable point in this 
theory of morality is still its formalistic conception of 
moral good. The vulnerable point is this: The theory 
must assume law or command as such can create moral 
obligation to obey it; that to obey a law merely as a law 
creates ethical value; that something is right, because it 
is commanded, instead of being commanded because it is 
right. This assumption is untenable; the foundation of our 
distiuctions of right and wrong is purely arbitrary on this 
assumption; and a rational ground of obligation is im- 
possible. Unless that which is commanded is assumed to 
be right, we can recognize no obligation to obey that 
command. Even supposing we believe the command to 
come from God, our obligation to obey could be justified 
only did we first believe God is good, and therefore what 
he commands is good. The whole strength and per- 
suasiveness of the Kantian doctrine of the good will, or 
categorical imperative of the supremacy of duty, is derived 
from this unrecognized assumption of a good, from which 
law derives its right to command, and from which comes 
our obligation to obey. The conclusion of the matter 
would seem to be, that if we are to have a philosophy of 
conduct our choice of theories of the good must lie between 



262 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

hedonism in some form and the theory which makes 
perfection of life the good. 

II. THE PROBLEM OF RELIGION 

We have now concluded the problem of morality. The 
last of the problems to engage our study is the problem of 
religion. 

As with the ethical problem, so the problem of religion 
breaks up into several special problems. Of these our study 
will limit itself to the examination of these two problems, 
namely: (1) The essential nature of religion; (2) The 
conception of God. 

The Essential Nature of Religion 

We begin with the problem concerning the essential 
nature of religion. It is the task of a philosophy of re- 
ligion, on the basis of the results reached by the psychological 
and historical study of religion, to determine its essential 
nature, its meaning and significance for a theory of the 
world. 

Analysis of religious experience discloses in it the three 
essential functions which are inseparable in all mental ex- 
perience, cognition, feeling, and will. And according as 
one or the other of these elements is preponderant, the 
religion of an individual may be characterized as intellectual- 
istic or emotional or voluntaristlc. The fundamental note 
of religion is faith, and the vital element in faith is the sense 
of the objective reality of its object. "He that cometh to 
God must believe that He is." This claim of truth is the 
cognitive moment in religion. But religion is also a manner 
of feeling. Religion involves an emotional response to 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 263 

God not less than an intellectual apprehension, nay the deep 
roots of religion are in our feeling nature. The throbbing 
heart of piety is worshipping love, trust, submission and 
loyalty. 

The great passions, the profoundest emotional stirrings 
of our nature, are religious. " God is the sea where all our 
passions roll." Not less does will enter into the life of 
religion. The will to believe, or belief because our voli- 
tional nature demands it, is one of the most indisputable 
facts of religious experience. 

It is vital to the conception of religion to recognize the 
cognitive moment. It may be doubted if definitions of 
religion which are apparently framed to exclude intellect 
from Religion are really successful. For instance, the classic 
definition of Schleiermacher, according to which religion 
is a feeling state, namely, the feeling of absolute dependence, 
really implies a cognitive attitude toward a reality, a Being 
on whom we are absolutely dependent. Indeed, Schleier- 
macher's own definition of religion as the sense, the feeling, 
of the Infinite, clearly includes the cognitive function. One 
feels, has the sense of infinite reality, only as one asserts it; 
and assertion is a cognitive act. The importance of this 
recognition of the cognitive moment in religion lies in the 
fact that unless this is done religion becomes a subjective 
experience only. Now, the very heart is taken out of re- 
ligion, if its objective significance is denied. Faith is the 
central fact of religion; and the nerve of faith is the con- 
viction of the reality of its object. This conviction carries 
the whole movement of the religious life, its emotions and 
its practical attitude. This consciousness of dealing with 
a reality, a Being which is not the religious man's own self. 



264 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

or ideal of self, is the living spirit of religion. No one is so 
deeply interested in the objective reality of what he believes 
as is the religious believer. The whole value of God to the 
reHgious mind is staked on the fact of his existence. " He 
that Cometh to God must believe that He is," expresses the 
fundamental importance of this element of objective reality 
attaching to the objects of the religious attitude. Once 
convince the believer that the object of his faith is not real, 
and his religious life languishes and dies. The conception 
of religion which makes it a worship, a devotion to an ideal 
Self, whether that of the individual or an ideal of humanity, 
may be held by a philosopher of religion, but it is demonstra- 
bly not the conception which the religious man has in his 
actual religious experience. A thinker may maintain that 
since religion has no objective basis, the only substitute 
for it is either a cosmic emotion of some sort, or worship of 
humanity, or the worship of an individual ideal. He may 
hold that these are good substitutes for religion; that religion 
belongs to an outgrown stage of man's development; but no 
conception of religion that does not go directly in the face 
of the surest deduction from the facts of man's religious 
history can resolve religion into subjective experience. 
But if it belongs to the essence, the essential definition of 
religion, that it involves the recognition of objective reality, 
then the cognitive function is an indispensable moment in 
Religion. 

But if it be a fatal defect in a conception of religion that 
it overlooks the cognitive side, it is an error hardly less 
serious to overlook the subordinate function of intellect in 
religion. Religion demands and claims knowledge; but 
the knowledge it wants and needs to possess is not that of 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT ^65 

the philosopher. The reaHty which for religion must stand 
secure is not the reality which philosophy seeks to grasp, 
or which science tries to comprehend. The religious inter- 
est in the world reality is not that of the philosopher. The 
motives to religious believing and the motives to philosophi- 
cal thinking are quite different things. Religion seeks 
truth, knowledge, for the purpose of effective and satisfying 
life. Religion needs to feel that the Being it clings to in 
faith is able and willing to protect our lives from evil, from 
destruction, to save the values of life, to relieve us in distress 
and peril, to inspire hope in despair, give comfort in sorrow, 
in short, to save man's life in a hostile and perilous and 
destructive universe. Any conception of the Divine which 
makes it capable of satisfying these religious needs, satis- 
fies the religious believer. Religion has survived profound 
changes in the theoretic conception of the world ; and it will 
survive further changes. Its life can be touched only if it 
has to surrender its faith in Goodness and Power in the 
World-Reality as available and really at work for man. 
The knowledge religion demands is limited in scope, and 
wholly practical in its function. The oversight of this fact, 
the exaggeration of the importance of the intellect in religion, 
has had most baneful consequences. Recall the history of 
religious wars, of persecutions, of martyrdoms, of sectarian 
strifes, which have rent Christianity, and one appreciates the 
seriousness of the error in making intellectual belief supreme 
in religion. The long and bitter conflict between religion 
and science, in which religion has always suffered not only 
defeat but the loss of the respect of so many of the noblest 
minds, and — a sadder result still— has lost so largely her 
hold upon the intelligence of our modern age, all this 



266 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

should be set down as the accident of a mistaken view of 
the function of intellect in the religious life. 

In the conception of religion, greater prominence belongs 
to the feeling and to the will elements than to the cognitive. 
Those authorities who are disposed to make religion essen- 
tially a mode of feeling, or to make it consist mainly in ritual 
performances, are so far in the right, that the satisfaction 
of emotional needs, the justification of emotional attitude, 
motives the religious thinking. The object of faith is in 
most forms of religion so conceived as to satisfy and to 
justify the exercise of certain strong and dominating emo- 
tions. There must be something in the Divine to call forth 
and justify fear, reverence, humility, before him, and trust- 
fulness toward him. He must have such a nature that it 
can make a difference with him whether the worshipper is 
joyous or sad, hopeful or despondent, penitent, contrite, 
or conscious of rectitude and loyality toward him. So 
must also the Divine be so thought that he can be influenced 
to action toward man by what man does toward him, in 
sacrificial acts, in prayers, or in obedience to his commands. 
In the highest stage of religious development, as in the 
lowest and presumably earliest stage, the gods are wish 
granters, hearers of prayer, and on occasions interpose to 
deliver their servants in trouble and in peril. If the god 
no longer hears, is silent, and remains unmoved by 
appeals, by sacrificial offerings and ritual acts, the religious 
bond between the worshipper and that god is broken; that 
being ceases to be god. 

Now, while this is true in the great majority of religious 
believers, can we say that this way of conceiving the Divine, 
and his relation to man, is indispensable to religion ? For 



t 



I 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 267 

instance, can we deny that Spinoza was a religious man, 
whom Schleiermacher characterized as a " God-intoxicated 
man, " "full of Religion, full of the Holy Ghost, to whom 
Religion was his all ?" But Spinoza's God hears no prayers, 
pities no sorrows, hates no sinners, and loves no saint, 
in return for love. These pathologic states are im- 
possible to the All-perfect, whose nature transcends 
whatever is finite and imperfect. The God of Spinoza 
needs no help from man. He is not affected or changed by 
anji;hing which man can do; yet Spinoza's adoration of this 
Being, this Perfect Universe; his amor dei intellectus, his 
joyous trust and perfect resignation to the Perfect Whole, 
were very genuine and very potent in their influence upon 
Spinoza's whole manner of living. Can we deny religious 
significance to the attitude of these men — and they are not 
few — to whom God is only the "Power in darkness whom 
we feel ?" Nay, shall we say that Epicurus must have been 
fundamentally irreligious, who maintained that the gods 
could not in any wise be concerned in the affairs of our 
human lives, or in the world-order, which is so indifferent, 
nay so hostile, to our interests.? The gods of Epicurus 
were ideals, models of the life man may admire and aspire 
to possess. That there are such beings living lives free 
from want and care, in happy perfect sufficiency, is surely 
not a matter of no interest or importance even to men, pro- 
vided they attract us, and move us toward their type of 
being, and we have some reason to hope we shall attain a 
hke kind of existence; or even if there is no such happy 
destiny awaiting us, these beings make a difference in our 
lives while we live. And are the differences less radical 
which separate the Christian form of religion from the 



268 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

religion of the uncivilized races, or even from polytheistic 
religions ? What is there common to the Christian con- 
ception of God, and the conception which the savage has 
of the object of his worship ? Or what feelings, emotions, 
are common to both forms of religion, or what forms of 
conduct are alike in both the religion of the savage and the 
religion of the Christian ? The question which is forced upon 
us is, is it possible to determine what is the essential 
nature of religion ? And that is to ask, is it possible to 
solve this first special problem in the philosophy of religion ? 
One way of answering this question is to say, the problem 
does not properly belong to the philosophy of religion, but 
to the science of religion; it is in part a psychological ques- 
tion and in part belongs to the historical science of religion. 
The philosopher should take what these sciences hand over 
to him. I think the philosopher might be willing to do 
this, had the psychology and history of religion reached a 
definite conclusion as to the essential nature of religion. 
Unquestionably these sciences afford the only data there are 
for determining what the essential elements of religion are; 
but beyond supplying these data, it does not appear that they 
have yet gone in giving a generally accepted definition of 
the essential nature of religion. Without question, it is 
along the lines laid down by the psychological-historical 
study of religion that we must proceed, if we are to reach 
the solution of our problem. It is true also that tentative 
definitions of religion have been given by psychologists and 
historians of religion ; but, so far as I know, no one of these 
has succeeded in finding general acceptance. Nor is it hard 
to understand why there has been so little success in detre- 
mining the essential elements of religion, when one realizes. 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 269 

as only the student of religion does fully realize, how diffi- 
cult is the task of really penetrating the religious life of 
peoples who have left no religious literature, and existing 
peoples whose expressions of religion are almost entirely 
ritual — sacrificial acts, the utterance of mere formulae — or 
symbols whose meaning can be only dimly divined. It is not 
difficult to describe and to classify all the phenomena of a 
religion; but it is quite another undertaking to interpret 
the thoughts, the feelings and purposes, by which these 
outward actions are accompanied, or which are embodied 
in rites and symbolized in various utterances or in written 
characters. The religious life cannot be separated from the 
general life. Religion is inseparable from man's develop- 
ment; man's religious conceptions and feelings are bound 
up with his conception of the world and of himself, they 
correspond to the level he occupies in culture in the course 
of evolution. Consequently, to interpret the religious ideas 
and practices of a people one must be able to put himself 
into their world, to think as they think, and feel as they feel. 
The only definition of religion which it seems possible 
to frame must be in terms of sufficient generality to include 
every conception and every form of feeling and will-action 
which, to the individual, has a religious significance. Ac- 
cordingly, a definition can be scarcely more than the mere 
statement that religion is that attitude to the world-reality 
by which man seeks the maintenance of his life, and the 
satisfaction of those needs he is not able to satisfy by his 
unaided powers. This attitude is a thinking attitude, in 
that man gives to his world a meaning for his life-needs. 
It is a feeling attitude, in that man responds to the object 
of his belief by appropriate emotions. It is a will-attitude 



270 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

in that certain actions are always performed for the purpose 
of maintaining and making more effective the relation be- 
tween the individual or the community and the Divine Being. 
In what way the individual religiously thinks, the particular 
meaning he gives to the object in the religious relation, is 
relative to his knowledge of himself, the meaning and the 
value he gives to his life. The same is true of the other 
functions which constitute religion. It follows from this, 
that whatever conception the individual does form of his 
God is essential to the relation he wishes to maintain with 
this being, and likewise the particular feelings he has and 
the actions he performs are essential to his religious life. 
It also follows from this view, that no one of the many 
possible ways of giving a religious meaning and value to 
the world-reality is essential to every individual's religion. 
The only thing which is essential to religion itseK and as 
such is, that some interpretation and valuation be given to 
the world-reality which for the given individual, or for the 
community to which he belongs, does guarantee the main- 
tenance and the satisfaction of life. We can, it seems to me, 
go no farther in this matter of determining the essential 
nature of religion. 

It will aid in making more definite our conception of 
religion, if we consider the relation between religion and 
morality, and their distinction or difference. Perhaps the 
feature of religion which distinguishes it most clearly from 
morality, is the recognition of a reality which is extra- or 
super-human. In morality no such extra-human reality is 
necessary; it Tnay exist if man comes to include the divine 
m an ethical community, but morality does not require 
this inclusion of an extra-human being. Man can maintain 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 271 

ethical relations with his human fellows, even did he recog- 
nize no divine beings. 

A second point of difference is the emotions which are 
characteristic of each. Religious feelings are quite distinct 
from those whi'ch characterize the ethical relation. Fear, 
reverence, hope, joy, etc., are quite unlike feelings of obli- 
gation, self-approbation, remorse, etc. We note a third 
difference, if we compare what is fundamental to the mean- 
ing of each, religion and morality: faith; duty, obligation; 
the affirmation of something which already is, and the 
affirmation of something which is not but which ought to be. 
Religion is based on the conviction that something is now 
real, morality on the demand that something be made real. 
This leads us to note a fourth difference between religion 
and morality, namely, moral value is created by man's own 
action; religious value he recognizes and largely receives. 
In morality the good is that which man creates, in religion 
man receives the good. In morality man asserts and evinces 
his own, his highest power. In religion, man depends upon 
a Power not himself. 

Historically viewed, we can say that in their origin moral- 
ity and religion are contemporaneous and coalesce. Man's 
recognition of his human fellows and his recognition of 
beings other than human went together, and his conduct 
toward his human fellows, and his conduct toward his 
deities, were regulated by the same customs, and judged by 
the same standards. Whatever ethical value man gave to 
his conduct, he made his gods the conservers, the guardians 
of that value. The gods were associated with man in 
maintaining and enforcing customs. Nor is it probable 
that primitive men made an ethical distinction between 



272 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

conduct -vrhich affected human society, and conduct which 
concerned the divine beings. The point of differentiation, 
if it can be marked anj-where, should be put where a differ- 
ence is recognized, between something which is conducive 
to the welfare of human society, and something which the 
gods demand. At this point, the two interests diverge and 
tend to become antagonistic, the two goods, the ethical and 
the religious, become separated; and the possibihty of con- 
flict between them arises. The first definite stage in moral 
evolution is marked by a break with religious custom, 
religious traditions. The ethical reformer is irreligious, 
according to the judgment of his contemporaries, who do not 
accept his new ethical standard; nay, he may be irreligious 
in his o\on judgment, for he may associate all religion with 
beliefs and conduct he has come to reject. 

At this point of differentiation of religion and morality 
there comes the question of their influence upon each other. 
Is this influence mutual, or is it on the side of one or the 
other of these departments of man's life ? And if so, from 
which side has this influence come.'' That morality has 
influenced religion is abundantly shown by the history of 
the Greek religion. The gods became more moral in 
character, as higher moral standards were established. 
The Greeks had to moralize their deities in order to keep 
them. The better moral character which they attributed 
to their gods was the inevitable outcome of their ethical 
advance which began with Socrates. In the case of the 
Greeks it must be said, I think, that the determining in- 
fluence was wholly on the side of morality. The masses 
may have been made somewhat more moral, because the 
gods were the defenders, the enforcers of moral law, but the 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 273 

gods came to hold this ethical position, because the leaders 
of Greek thought were moral reformers. The gods came 
to be endowed with distinctly moral attributes, because only 
so could they remain gods. For man's gods must be the 
conservers of his supreme values. Only divine beings who 
are good can be the maintainers of ethical values. 

With the Israelites the course of things would seem to 
have been the reverse, namely, the determining influence, 
it is maintained by some authorities, came from religion, 
Moses, the first great ethical reformer, was the prophet of 
Jahweh, and gave the new moral commands in the name 
of the new deity. The relation between the community 
and Jahweh their God was the foundation of ethical 
relations between the individual members. Their duties 
were divine commands, enforced by specifically religious 
sanctions. 

We have in the case of the Israelites a religious morality, 
and also an ethical religion. In Israel, with the masses, 
morality was enforced by religious motives; hope of Jah- 
weh's favor and fear of his wrath were the incentives and the 
restraints which chiefly operated with the people, only a 
small part of which understood or sympathized with the 
ethical religion of Moses. In Greece, the situation would 
seem to have been the reverse. The people were forced 
to entertain better conceptions of the gods, and to less 
reprehensible religious rites, by their acceptance of higher 
ethical standards. In Israel, the people were moral from 
religious motives. In Greece, morality made necessary a 
better religion. But is it not a fair question, whether the 
religious-ethical development of the Israelites did not origi- 
nally spring from the ethical side. Moses came forth as the 



274 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

prophet of Jahweh, but Jahweh was a righteous God. How 
did IMoses know that Jahweh was in a moral respect so supe- 
rior to the gods of the other nations and to the deities of 
popular religion ? Did he not in his thought create the 
Divine according to his ideal of life r A God who would 
maintain the purer ethical ideal, and save the higher value 
of life, was the only Being Moses the ethical reformer as 
well as religious prophet could accept. Did not therefore 
ethical motive impel the movement toward a more spiritual 
conception of the di\-ine and to a higher t}"pe of religious 
life .'' And if the religion of the prophets was a strong 
ethical force, was that not owing to the fact that it became 
ethical in spirit, and held before the nation and the individual 
a high and purely ethical ideal ? 

But whichever of the two influences was the original one 
in the establishment of ethical-rehgion in Israel, the fact 
remains that the moral life of this people was powerfully 
influenced and sustained by their religion. The ethical 
religion of the prophets reached its consummation in the 
religion of Jesus. The cardinal trait in the rehgion we 
can with most confidence attribute to Jesus was the in- 
separable connection between the religious and the moral 
life. The moral duty enjoined and the motive for doing it 
were of the same fiber, both religious and ethical. The 
good will toward one's human fellow was the essence of the 
moral obligation. It made the goodness of every deed. But 
this good will was at the same time an expression of the reli- 
gious life, since this good will was toward a brother in the 
family of God. So "^"ital, so inseparable, were morality and 
religion in the conception of Jesus, that no one could be 
religious who is not ethically good ; and no one is as ethic- 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 275 

ally good as he should be who is not religious. "Ye shall be 
perfect as your Father in Heaven is perfect," is the ethical 
standard. "That ye may be the children of your Father in 
Heaven," defines the adequate motive to the goodness 
demanded by this ideal. 

But the question now confronts us: is this connection 
between religion and morality an intrinsic and necessary one, 
or is it accidental? Is religion essential to the best type 
of morality, or can morality be divorced from religion with- 
out detriment, nay — with a gain ? Such is the opinion 
entertained in some quarters to-day. It is maintained that 
the time has come for a complete dissociation of the ethical 
life, ethical education and ideals, from every form of re- 
ligious belief, and religious motives. This view is, that 
morality is indispensable to man's development, to his so- 
cial life, to the advancement of the race; but religion is 
not a necessary element in man's spiritual development. 
It represents rather a stage of his development, which he 
will leave behind him, an adjunct which may have been 
serviceable to him in the past, but which is no longer a 
help to his progress, but for the most part a hinderance. 
This view, that religion has only an accidental and adjunct 
connection with the life of man, and is destined to entire 
elimination in the future, has against it the concensus of 
opinion, founded upon the psychological-historical study 
of rehgion. From the historical point of ^^ew and in its 
psychological aspect religion appears to be as much an 
original endowment of man's nature, an element in his 
spiritual life, as indispensable, as man's ethical nature. 
Man is as naturally and necessarily religious as he is ethi- 
cal. The interests of his life which religion comprehends 



276 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

are as deep-rooted and indispensable as are the interests of 
morality. 

Such appears to be the deduction from the profoundest 
study of man's nature and history. There seems as little 
reason to expect man will cease to be a religious being, as 
for expecting he will cease to be an ethical being. 

In concluding this discussion, I will suggest two ways in 
which religion is serviceable to morality. It enables man 
to give a higher valuation to his life, it enriches the meaning 
of his existence, it takes him out of the merely temporal and 
transient, and makes him a member of a more vast and en- 
during order. He shares the life of those Beings who are 
above him, in whom he believes his ideals of what is best 
and most satisfying are realized. Now this higher valua- 
tion which religion gives to the personal life deepens the 
sense of moral obligation, makes more binding the claim 
of the individual upon the service and regard of his human 
fellows. The welfare of human beings is important in pro- 
portion to the valuation put upon human life. The essence 
of morality is conduct directed to the promotion of human 
welfare. Religion in its best form enormously increases the 
interest of human welfare; and by so doing it greatlyenlarges 
the range of duty and deepens the sense of obligation. 

In a second way religion is contributory to morality. 
It supplies the maximal stimulus, without which the moral 
life comes short of its finest, its noblest action. The moral 
appeal is apt to fail of its maximal stimulus, where it is not 
feenforced by the recognition of the larger claim, the higher 
value, which religion creates. The Great Claimant must 
be there if man is to make the fullest, the most loyal response 
to duty of which he is capable. 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 277 

The Problem of God, the Object of Religious Faith 

The second problem in the philosophy of religion might 
be stated as the justification of religious faith. We have 
seen that the assertion of objective reality is indispensable 
to religion. The believer claims objective existence for the 
being to which he unites his life and his destiny in the reli- 
gious bond. It is the function of philosophy to determine 
the validity of this claim, to ascertain what are the rational 
grounds in which rests religious faith. Our examination 
will limit itself to two conceptions of God: The theistic 
conception; The pantheistic conception or the concep- 
tion of idealistic pantheism. 

We must first distinguish these doctrines. The essential 
elements in the theistic conception are the following: 

1. The personality of the Divine Being. Theism main- 
tains that God exists in the form of Personal Life, His 
personality is conceived after the analogy of our own self- 
conscious mode of existence. His essential difference from 
us, is the perfection of the attributes which we possess only 
in an imperfect degree. God possesses these attributes of 
personality each in a degree infinite and perfect. 

2. In his essential nature, God is distinct from the 
world, and from our human selves. The world is depend- 
ent upon Him for its existence and the continuance of all 
its forces, its order and its development. It is here that the 
line of sharpest distinction runs between theism and pan- 
theism. A pantheist can attribute to God personal ex- 
istence, but he maintains that in his essence God is not 
distinct from the substance of the world, he asserts the 
identity of God's nature with our human selves. It is 



278 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

vital to theism on the contrary to maintain the distinctness 
of God in his own nature from our human selves. It is 
especially the relation of God to our human selves that is 
essential. A theist may accept the Berkeleyan idealism, 
and therefore accept a pantheistic conception of the material 
part of the world, since matter is reduced to perceptions of 
our minds, produced by direct and constant action of God, 
and the order of Nature and the world of physical science 
becomes, as we say, an expression and a realization of the 
world-ideas in the Divine Mind. But on the relation be- 
tween God and the human self the divergence of the two 
doctrines is real and, as most theists maintain, momentous. 
For, as the theist maintains, our existence and natures are so 
far distinct from the existence and nature we must attribute 
to God that there is foundation for an ethical and religious 
dualism; a real otherness to God is the basis of the ethical 
and religious attitude we take in relation to Him. As 
ethical individuals, our wills are ours; our freedom and our 
responsibility are unique experiences; so are our actions, 
our ethical experiences in right and wrong doing. And 
likewise in religious experience there is a distinction be- 
tween our selves and God which goes to the point of pur- 
poses, actions, and feelings, which are our own, and are not 
shared even by God. Here our wills are ours, to make 
them His; but also to oppose them to his will. 

Pantheism, while it recognizes in our human selves some- 
thing which is not in God, namely, finiteness, dependence, 
error, and wrong-doing, maintains that our wills are in 
what is essential to them parts of the One Will, are wills 
within his will, and our total experiences are moments in 
the Inclusive Experience. The essential identity of natures. 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 279 

the oneness of substance, appears in this, that each finite 
thought, when made completely true, is God's thought; 
each finite purpose, if its aim could be reached, would be 
identical with God's purpose; each finite experience, could 
its partial and fragmentarj'^ character be done away with, 
would be seen to be one with God's experience. Every 
human self is therefore a partial self within the one only 
Complete Self, or Individual. God, therefore, is what we 
would be, if made complete. We are consequently in es- 
sence one with God. In the fullest sense of the words 
"We live, move, and Lave our being in Him," and "God is 
all and in all." 

Theism, on the contrary, gives to our human self a sub- 
stance existence, makes it capable of actions and experiences 
which have their source, their explanation in this self, not 
in God — ^the Other Self. God is author of our possibilities, 
but not of our actualities. In action which is our own, and 
self-determined, we can take the attitude of trust, obedience, 
loyalty toward God; or we can, of ourselves, take the oppo- 
site attitude. These actions and experiences God knows, 
but they are in no sense his. 

" God, whose pleasure brought 

Man into bemg, stands away 
As it were, a hand-breadth off, to give 
Room- for the newly made to live. 
And look at him from a place apart, 
And use his gifts of brain and heart." 

Having distinguished the two conceptions of God, I 
shall now examine the doctrine of theism; and this I 
shall do by a discussion of the historic proofs of the ex- 
istence of God. These proofs go back to Anselm, the 



280 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

great theologian of the Scholastic period. The oldest of 
these is the one, elaborated by Anselm, commonly called the 
ontological argument. It seeks to establish the existence 
of God by a strictly a 'priori and absolutely cogent process 
of reasoning. Originally formulated by Anselm, and later 
modified by Descartes, the substance of the proof is the 
following : 

The conception of God is that of the most perfect being. 
God is not rightly thought unless he is thought as absolutely 
perfect. Now existence belongs to the conception of the 
most perfect being. God is not rightly thought unless 
thought as existing. Therefore the existence of God neces- 
sarily follows, from the true conception of God. God's 
existence follows from the idea of Him by the same necessity 
by which the equality of the radii of a circle follows from the 
conception of the circle. To assert that God is a perfect 
being and to deny that He therefore exists, is as great a con- 
tradiction as it would be to assert that God is perfect, and 
yet is lacking in something essential to his perfection. 

It is surprising that this venerable argument should have 
seemed convincing to many minds, and some of them emi- 
nent as thinkers. A slight examination reveals its unsound- 
ness. The proof rests upon an assumption which is very 
hard to substantiate, namely, the identity of thought and 
being. Absolute idealism makes this assumption, and the 
thinkers of this type maintain that the ontological argument 
is essentially valid. From another point of view the argu- 
ment commits the fallacy of irrelevant reasoning. From 
the propositions which constitute the premises all that 
follows is that existence belongs to the conception of God, 
not that God must exist. God exists in thought; but not 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 281 

for that reason does He exist in actuality. The real source 
of the behef which this argument has been supposed to 
validate is the response of our nature to the ideal of a Perfect 
Being. The demand that what is perfect shall be something 
more than an idea, this assent to the idea of God as the per- 
fect Being, comes from our feeling and volitional nature — 
for if God does not exist then the most perfect does not 
exist; and it is intolerable that the most perfect should 
not exist. 

The second proof of the existence of God has been 
called the anthropological argument. It was elaborated 
by Descartes, and proceeds in this way: 

Descartes said, he found among the various ideas in his 
mind the idea of God as a Perfect Being. Now, assuming 
the validity of the principle of sufficient reason, namely, 
that for everything which exists or comes to be there must 
be a sufficient reason for its existence — in other words, an 
adequate cause must exist for that which comes to be — 
there must be found a sufficient reason for the existence of 
the idea of God in his mind. His own mind could not be 
the adequate cause of the existence of the idea of God, 
because his own mind was finite, imperfect; the idea of 
God is that of a Being who is infinite and perfect. Were 
his mind the cause of this idea, finite cause would produce 
an infinite effect, which contradicts the principle of sufficient 
reason; for that asserts that the cause must at least be equal 
to the effect. The only adequate cause for this idea of 
God in his mind, Descartes maintained, was God himself; 
and consequently God must exist in reality, and not merely 
in idea. This argument is closely akin to the ontological 
one. It professes to proceed, however, on a different 



282 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

principle, a conviction, namely, the connection of cause and 
effect. 

Is it not surprising that so clear and so severely intellec- 
tual a thinker as Descartes, the founder of rationalistic 
epistemology in modern philosophy, should have thought 
this argument valid? Scarcely more than a superficial 
examination is necessary to bring to light one wholly unwar- 
ranted assumption on which the reasoning is based, namely, 
that the relation between a thinker and his thought is of 
the same nature as that between cause and effect, or the 
relation between an explaining principle and the fact ex- 
plained. The cause-and-effect relation holds only between 
an explaining principle and the fact explained. The 
cause-and-effect relation holds only between objective 
existences, or between phenomena in nature. The mind 
is not a cause of its thought, Descartes' assertion that 
the human mind cannot explain the existence of the 
idea of God in it cannot support itself on the principle of 
sufficient reason, if that is interpreted as Descartes inter- 
preted it The assertion is clearly dogmatic; against it can 
be put with equal reason the assertion, man can think of 
God as a perfect Being. But were it admitted that Des- 
cartes had established his proposition that God is the only 
explainer of the idea of himseff in the human mind, the 
argument would not establish the essential proposition of 
theism, but of pantheism. For if God is the only explainer 
of this thought of Himself, then it is God who thinks in the 
human mind; and the human mind is a mode of God's 
thinking; and that is the doctrine of pantheism. Thus 
would Descartes' anthropological proof, if valid, establish 
the doctrine of pantheism, not the doctrine of theism. 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 283 

The third of these classical proofs of the existence 
of God is the cosmological proof. The cosmological argu- 
ment proceeds along two main lines, which are distinct; 
and it will be advantageous to follow out these lines sepa- 
rately. The first of these proceeds from the contingent 
existence of the world. The argument which moves along 
this line may be developed in the following way: Every- 
thing in the world has its cause; but every cause is in turn 
also for that very reason the effect of another cause. Thus, 
there is in the world a continuous chain of causes, which 
looked at from behind are effects, and viewed from before 
are causes. Thus, everything in the world has its basis 
without itself, is contingent. What is true of individual 
things is also true of the world as a whole. Applying the 
law of causation to it, as a unity, we must inquire after its 
cause. But if we simply ascend endlessly from effects to 
other effects, and other causes, we should have a series of 
effects without a beginning, which is as unthinkable as a 
stream without a source. Therefore, reason must assume 
a necessary fundamental cause of the world, which is not 
in turn the effect of another cause. That being is God. 

I will suggest the following criticism of this argument. 
The argument rests upon two assumptions which may be 
fairly challenged. 

1. That what is true of particular things in the world is 
true of the world taken in its totality. 

2. That a causal chain if extended beyond the world can 
terminate in an extra-mundane cause, which is not itself 
an effect. 

The first assumption is perhaps the back-bone of the 
argument. But is it tenable ? Because everything in 



284 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

the world has its cause or explanation in something outside 
of itself does it follow that the world-whole, or the system 
of all these causally connected things in the world, must 
have a cause or explanation in something which is outside 
of or distinct from itself ? Can it be maintained that the 
world system which explains the existence and connection 
of things within the system must have a cause of itself 
which is outside of its own nature ? Can we assume that the 
principle of causal connection has any relevancy outside 
the cosmos itself ? Is the second assumption any more 
tenable ? Is it logically possible to escape the endless chain, 
if we extend the principle of causal explanation beyond the 
world within which its validity is unquestioned ? Is it not 
a purely arbitrary procedure, to avoid the regressus ad in- 
finitum by the assumption of a cause which is not in turn 
an eflfect ? 

The second form of the cosmological argument proceeds 
from certain facts of the world's structure. There are two 
such facts each of which is the basis of a distinct proof: 
(1) Causal-connection, the systematic connection between 
all parts of the cosmos. (2) Adaptations, especially those 
which abound in the organic world. The theist maintains 
that the two distinct lines of proof which set out from these 
features of the world's structure converge upon the one in- 
ference to a world-creator, who is distinct from the world, 
and to whom the world owes the structure it exhibits. 

The argument from causal connection is the following: 
However we conceive the ultimate structural elements, 
whether as the monads of Leibniz or as the atoms of physical 
science, the problem presented is, to explain their inter- 
connections, their reciprocal influence This interaction 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 285 

is possible, only if each element acts as if it took account of 
all the other elements and adjusted its activities and states 
to those of every other like element, and to the demands 
of the entire cosmos. For the behavior of any one monad or 
atom requires for its explanation the simultaneous behavior 
of every other monad or atom. Now, whether we assume 
that a dynamic connection obtains between the elements 
(i.e., an influence exerted by the elements) or whether, with 
Leibniz, we suppose a preestablished connection between 
these elements, the explanation of this character of the 
cosmos must be found in a Being who is distinct from these 
elements, and from the cosmos itself; and this Being must 
have constituted each element with a reference to every 
other constitutent element, must have embraced all in a 
comprehending thought, a cosmic-plan. This argument 
concludes that there must exist an extra-mundane Being 
who is the creative ground of these many interrelated beings. 
I will suggest the following objections to this argument: 
(1) Even were the inference to some extra-cosmic Being 
valid, the evidence does not warrant the conclusion which 
the thesis requires; namely, that this Being possesses in- 
finite attributes, and especially moral attributes. The 
universe, so far as we have knowledge of it, is finite, and 
imperfect, and it need have only a finite and imperfect 
creator or explainer. (2) This structure of the cosmos does 
not point to an extra-cosmic Being as its cause or ground: 
there is nothing in the facts which necessitates the theistic 
inference. The explaining ground of the world may be 
immanent. The world structure may be the form, the 
phenomenal manifestation of his Being, as pantheism main- 
tains. (3) But does this structure of the world necessitate 



286 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

the inference to a world mind, a unitary being, whether 
extra-mundane or intra-mundane ? Is it not conceivable 
that these elementary beings, monads, or atoms, are the 
ultimate reality (as pluralism maintains) ? And these 
beings, by their actions and reciprocal influence, have 
brought about the order and systematic connection which 
the cosmos presents ? Why must order, unity, and system 
preexist ideally in some cosmic mind ? Why may they not 
be the result of the action and mutual influence of the many 
independent beings ? Our world may, therefore, possess 
this structure, because a world having such a structure is 
the only one which could exist at all. 

The second of these cosmological arguments is known 
as the argument for design. It sets out from adaptations, 
particularly those we find in the animal world. These 
adaptations are secured by special organic structures, and 
functional activities correlated with them. Animals are 
fitted to the conditions of their life, and maintain their ex- 
istence in virtue of special organs which adapt them to 
the performance of actions which are essential to the main- 
tenance and perpetuation of life, either of the individual or 
of the species. It is this general fact which forms the basis 
of the design argument. 

The argument proceeds in 'the following way: These 
adaptations, and the organs by which they are made 
possible, could not have been produced merely by forces 
or agencies which act blindly, but only by an intend- 
ing, a designing mind, which either directly brings into 
existence such organisms, or indirectly, operating through 
secondary agencies and controlling and directing those 
forces to a preconceived end. Such organs as the vertebrate 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 287 

eye, the wing of the eagle, the human hand, compel the 
inference to a designing mind. This inductive inference is 
of the same nature as the inference to design when in the 
case of human productions we have before us certain struc- 
tures which show adaptation to uses or ends. Given a set 
of marks in a nature-production which are identical with 
those from which we invariably infer design in the case of 
human production, the inference to a designing mind in 
nature is as cogent as in our human world. For the basis 
of the inference is the same in both cases; that datum is a 
given structure, or function, the production of which in- 
volves the convergence of different and independent agen- 
cies upon a common result, the cooperation of several 
factors in the production of a single result. Take the eye, 
its single function is vision; but vision is possible, only if 
each of the several parts of the eye is so related to all the 
other parts that each and all by simultaneous and coordi- 
nated actions produce the single result — vision. 

Now this relation of the several parts of the eye to each 
other, and their common relation to the single end, vision, 
is as undeniable, as is the relation of the several parts of a 
watch to each other, and their joint relation to a single end, 
measuring time. Nay, this relationship is of precisely the 
same character in both, namely, the simultaneous action 
of a number of distinct parts toward a common result, 
the coincidence of a number of independent functions so 
as to effect a single function. Now if in the case of the 
human production, say a watch, we can solve this problem 
only by the supposition of a designing mind, can a problem 
of the same character which a nature production presents, 
say the eye, be solved without the supposition of a designing 



288 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

mind ? The theistic teleologist maintains that this argu- 
ment is perfectly valid, that the probabilities against the 
supposition that the vertebrate eye came into existence 
without an agency of this nature are millions to one; in 
other words, such a supposition is irrational. 

The criticisms of this strongest of the theistic proofs 
which I will indicate are the following. 

1. Were this argument valid, it would not establish the 
proposition which is essential to theism, namely, that this 
designing mind is an all-knowing, all-powerful, and per- 
fectly good Being. These nature productions are none of 
them perfect, most of them are very imperfect; not even the 
human eye reveals a perfect contriver — a better instrument 
for its purpose is quite conceivable. And adaptations and 
adaptive structures which are in a large measure successful, 
and rightly excite our wonder and admiration, are mingled 
with countless failures and defective organic structures. 
Consequently the only designer it is admissible to infer 
from organic nature is one which is finite in knowledge and 
in power. The moral attributes which can legitimately be 
inferred from nature come far short of those which theism 
assigns to God. The God behind nature may be good 
according to the theistic conception, but can it any longer 
be maintained that nature reveals goodness ? Or that 
the cosmos as science has made it known is a "school of 
virtue"? Could a man imitate the ways of the cosmos, 
and not be reprobated by his fellow men, as heartless and 
cruel ? 

2. But, even were it permissible to argue from organic 
nature to a being possessing infinite attributes, need this 
being be extra-mundane, as theism maintains ? Why may 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 289 

he not be intra-mundane, nay the world-substance, as 
pantheism teaches ? 

3. Once more the assumption on which this argument 
is based tenable — namely, that the essential problem being 
the same in the case of human productions and in nature 
productions, it must have been solved in the same way? 
May not nature have solved her problem by an altogether 
different method ? Because we resolve the function of 
vision into a complex structure, with a number of distinct 
parts which are related to a single purpose, and which con- 
spire as it seems to us to produce the single result — vision, 
must we infer that the eye-making agency proceeded after the 
fashion of our human art ? That it began with the parts 
and fitted them together under the guiding idea of the end to 
be attained ? Is it not quite supposable that the method we 
perhaps must follow in explaining the productions of nature 
is not the method by which these productions have been 
brought forth ? May not teleological interpretation be sub- 
jectively necessary, while it is not objectively true ? I have, 
I am aware, already made these suggestions in the dis- 
cussion of the mechanical and teleological explanations, 
but their bearing upon the theistic argument has seemed to 
justify a partial repetition of them in this connection. I 
will close this discussion of theistic teleology with a question 
which I prefer to leave open to the student. Was the state- 
ment of Huxley justified, which was to the effect that 
natural selection has given the death blow to the argument 
for design ? 

There remains one more theistic proof which it seems 
worth while to examine. Pfleiderner, who elaborated this 
argument, regarded it as an improved form of ontological 



290 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

proof; but it is properly an epistemological proof. This 
proof is based upon the fact of our knowledge of Nature. 
In substance the argument is the following: Both Nature 
and our human minds proceed in accordance with laws of 
their own; neither of itself determines the other to con- 
formity with its own laws. And yet the fact that we know 
nature is possible only if the laws of Nature and the laws of 
our thinking agree or are in a sense parallel. Our science, 
especially the exact sciences mathematics and pure physics, 
are based upon the conformity of nature to our minds. 
Were nature not mathematical in her processes, did she not 
as it were geometrize, and solve the most complex and in- 
tricate problems of thought, then the science of mathe- 
matics and of pure physics would be impossible as an ap- 
plied science. Now, this fundamental agreement between 
the laws of our thought and the laws of things can be ex- 
plained only by the supposition that the world ground is 
also the ground of our rational minds; and this basal reality 
must be mind, and this mind must be distinct both from 
nature and from our human minds; this being is the source 
and the unity of both nature and our minds. 

But does this reasoning lead to a theistic conclusion, and 
not rather to pantheism ? Why may not this world-ground, 
the principle of this preestablished harmony between our 
minds and nature, be the One-AU-and-only completely real 
being, the substance of Spinoza or the Absolute of Royce ? 
Is it not a simpler explanation of this harmony between our 
minds and nature to assume that both are modes of the one 
substance ? Our thoughts agree with things because both are 
thoughts within the one thought. To make this argument 
valid as a theistic argument, it would be necessary to 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 291 

establish the doctrine of metaphysical dualism and realistic 
rationalism, a philosophical task which the theistic philos- 
opher is not likely to accomplish. 

Our conclusion must be that the doctrine of theism is not 
susceptible of proof, the theistic's reasons not convincing. 
The theistic conception of God is for ethical and religious 
reasons accepted by most religious believers among civilized 
peoples; but the strength of this belief is not derived from 
the arguments which theology has constructed for the sup- 
port of faith. These historic proofs achieve nothing more 
than to show that this conception of God is possible; such a 
Being may exist. The right to believe that He exists 
cannot on rational grounds be denied, the facts of ethical 
and religious experience go far in justifying this faith. For 
many theological thinkers no other conception of God is 
compatible with the essential facts of religion or morality. 
But the conclusion we have reached in the examination of 
the proofs by which theistic belief is supported is, I think, 
sound; namely, these proofs do not accomplish the purpose 
for which they were constructed, namely, to demonstrate 
to the understanding that what faith accepts as true is true. 

The Pantheistic Conception of God. — The distinctive 
feature of pantheism we have seen is the identity it main- 
tains between God and the world, inclusive of our human 
selves. Perhaps most pantheists reject the personality of 
God, holding that He transcends the personality form of ex- 
istence, but this denial of personality in God is not the essen- 
tial mark of pantheism. A pantheist may maintain that 
God is the only true or complete person, the only complete 
individual. 

I shall accept this type of pantheism in the examination 



292 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

I propose of this form of religion. Professor Royce declares 
that the proof of the existence of God as an omniscient 
Being, the All-thinker and All-knower, is of the character of 
a demonstration, is consequently absolutely cogent to the 
exclusion of legitimate doubt. 

There are three lines of this proof as follows : The rela- 
tion itself between our thought and the object of that 
thought involves the actual possession of that object by 
some thinker who includes in his thought our thought and 
its object. Otherwise, we could not think of an object at 
all. "Unless the thought and its object are parts of one 
larger thought, I can't even be meaning that object 
yonder, can't even be in error about it, can't even doubt 
its existence." (Spirit of Modern Philosophy, p. 373.) 
"It is just this fact of our experience, that we think of ob- 
jects, from which the logically necessary conclusion is 
drawn that a thought, inclusive of our thought and its ob- 
ject, exists." "The existence of such a Being is reached 
by a rigid analysis of our most commonplace thought" 
(p. 373). 

The existence of an All-knower is proved by the pos- 
sibility of error in our thinking. "An error" says Professor 
Royce (Religious Aspect of Philosophy, p. 425), "is an in- 
complete thought, that, to a higher thought, which includes 
it and its intended object, is known as having failed in the 
purpose that it more or less clearly had, and that is fully 
realized in this higher thought." An error is, therefore, 
possible only if there is a judging thought other than the 
thought which errs. Only in relation to such a thought 
does error have any meaning and a possible existence. 
Whoever says that there are, or may be, such things as 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 293 

errors in the universe, necessarily, by implication asserts 
the existence of that Thought for which an actual error is 
actual, and a possible error is possible; such a Being must 
exist if I can even be in error about anything whatever. 

The confession of ignorance is logically possible only 
if an Absolute Being exists. "Our ignorance means that 
there is some sort of possible experience, some state of 
mind, that you and I want, but which we do not now pos- 
sess" (The Conception of God, p. 12). The knowledge 
we desire in our ignorance can be defined as an adequate 
knowledge of the contents and the objects of a certain con- 
ceived and ideal sort of experience. "It is only in terms 
of contrast between this lower experience and a higher one 
that this ignorance is definable at all" (Conception of 
God, p. 28). Now, the experience in contrast with which 
only can we be ignorant must be an actual not a merely 
ideally conceived experience; for, if we say, "Beyond our 
finite experience there is or need be no further experience." 
the answer must be, "only on the assumption of that ex- 
perience which you deny, can it be a fact that there is no 
experience beyond the finite." The proof, therefore, that 
the Absolute Experience is real is the very effort to deny it, 
or to assert that it need be only a possible experience. 

In our very ignorance therefore we must know that God 
is. This argument to prove the existence of God is cer- 
tainly ingenious and novel; but its validity is, I think, fairly 
open to question. The proof from the relation of thought 
to its object is valid only if the monistic conception of the 
world is the only rational one; and we have seen that 
monism is not susceptible of demonstrative proof. 

The peculiar relation of thought to its object which 



294 THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 

Professor Royce maintains is not the only kind of relation 
which can exist. 

The pluralist can well maintain his position that this 
relation of a finite thinker to the object of his thought 
needs for its meaning no other thinker than the mind that 
thinks of this object. 

The rejecter of the Roycean Absolute cannot be con- 
victed of logical contradiction or even of existemlogical 
error, when he asserts that such things as truth and error 
can exist even should there be no All-knower who knows 
that truth or that error. 

Unless Professor Royce can demonstrate the truth of the 
proposition, there cannot be a world in which there are 
only finite knowers; he cannot prove the existence of this 
Absolute from the existence or the possibility of error. 
The anti-absolutist will see as little force in the argument 
devised from the confession of ignorance. If I merely 
confess my ignorance, my utter inability to make affirma- 
tion or denial concerning what transcends my finite ex- 
perience, what logical necessity is there for an Absolute 
knower to know this fact of my ignorance ? I, this finite 
thinker, am competent to know so much; and why, pray, 
must there be an Absolute experience within which my 
fragment of experience must be contained ? 

But, even granting this argument is valid, the question 
arises. Does it not prove too much ? too much for the in- 
terests of religion ? Does the God, whose existence this 
argument is supposed to establish, leave any room for other 
beings, who are capable of religious experience, of sustain- 
ing to Him that sort of relation which is essential to religion ? 
Does not the reasoning by which Professor Royce thinks 



THE PROBLEM OF CONDUCT 295 

he conclusively proves the existence of his One God, if it 
proves anything, prove that only God really exists ? The 
student will recall the objections to the Roycean Monism 
in the chapter on monism and pluralism and he will see 
that these same difficulties lie in the way of accepting this 
form of monism in its religious aspect. But in reference 
to this very persuasive doctrine of Professor Royce, the 
counsel I have had occasion to give in more than one 
instance is again in place. Weigh and decide for yourself. 
"Prove all things, hold fast to that which is good." 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Of the numerous books which the student could use in 
connection with this First Course in Philosophy, I have 
limited my references to those which I think are best suited 
to the stage of philosophic culture which this course assumes. 
The advanced student in philosophy should need no refer- 
ences; he should seek out the leaders of thought and de- 
pend upon his own selection and use of authorities. 

The references which follow are arranged according to 

the order of topics in the text. 

THE MEANING OF PHILOSOPHY 

Paulsen: Introduction to Philosophy, Introduction. 
Perry: The Approach to Philosophy, Chapter I. 
Royce: The Spirit of Modern Philosophy, Introduction. 

REALISTIC AND IDEALISTIC CONCEPTIONS OF BEING 

Royce: The World and the Individual, Vol. I, Lectures II, III and 

VII. 
Perry: The Approach to Philosophy, Chapter X. 
^Present Tendencies in Philosophy, Chapters XII and XIII. 

MATERIALISM 

Paulsen: Introduction to Philosophy, Book I, Chapter I. 
Miss Calkins: Persistent Problems in Philosophy, Chapter III. 
Lange: History of Materiahsm, Vol. II, Second Section, Chapters 

I and II; Vol. Ill, Fourth Section, Chapter III. 
Buchner: Force and Matter. 

IDEALISM 

Berkeley: Principles of Human Knowledge, Dialogues, Hylas and 

Philonous. 
Royce: The Religious Aspect of Philosophy, Chapter X. 

The Spirit of Modern Philosophy. 

The World and the Individual, Vol. I, Lectures VII and 

VIII; Vol. II, Lectures IV and V. 

297 



298 BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Perbt: Present Tendencies in Philosophy, Part III, Chapters VI, 
VII and VIII. 

DUALISM 

B. Russell: Problems in Philosophy, Chapter II. 

The New Realism, Essays by Holt and by Pitkin. 

Fullekton: Introduction to Philosophy, Chapters III, IV and V. 
The World We Live In. 

AGNOSTIC MONISM 

Spencer: First Principles, Part I, Chapters I to VI. 

Ward: NaturaUsm and Agnosticism, Vol. II, pages 105 and 211. 

MONISM AND PLURALISM 

Spinoza: Ethics. 

Taylor: Elements of Metaphysics, Book II, Chapter III. 

Royce: The World and the Individual, Vol. I, Lectures VIII, IX 

and X; Vol. II, from Lecture VI. 
F. S. C. Schiller : Riddles of the Sphinx, Chapter X. 
James: A Pluralistic Universe, Some Problems in Philosophy. 

PROBLEM OF THE SOUL 

Paulsen: Introduction to Philosophy, Book I, Chapter I, pages 

111 fif. 
Strong: Why the Mind has a Body. 

James: Principles of Psychology, Vol. I, Chapters V and X. 
Taylor: Elements of Metaphysics, Book III, Chapter II. 
Fullerton: Introduction to Philosophy, Chapters VIII and IX. 

SPACE AND TIME 

Fullerton: Introduction to Philosophy, Chapters VI and VII. 
Kant: Critique of Pure Reason, Transcendential, Esthetic. 
James: Principles of Psychology, Vol. I, Chapter XV, Vol. II, 

Chapter XX. 
Taylor: Elements of Metaphysics, Book III, Chapter IV. 

CAUSATION 

Mill: Logic, Book III, Chapter V. 

Hume: Enquiries (Bigge). 

Taylor: Elements of Metaphysics, Book II, Chapter V. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 299 

MECHANICAL AND TELEOLOGICAL EXPLANATIONS 

Paulsen: Introduction to Philosophy, Book I, Chapter II, pages 

158 ff., pages 202 flf., pages 218 ff. 
Bowne: Studies in Theism, Chapter IV. 
Lange: History of Materialism, Vol. Ill, Chapters III and IV. 

RATIONALISM, EMPIRICISM AND PRAGMATISM 

Paulsen: Introduction, Book II, Chapter II. 

B. Russell: Problems in Philosophy, Chapters VIII to XV. 

Hume: Enquiries (Bigge). 

Mill: Examination of Hamilton's Philosophy, Chapter XI. 

James: Pragmatism, Lecture VI. 

Essays on Radical Empiricism, II, III and IV. 

The Meaning of Truth, I, II, IV and VI. 

-Some Problems in Philosophy, Chapters IV and V. 

Pkatt: What is Pragmatism? 

Perry: Present Tendencies in Philosophy, Chapter IX. 

FREE WILL AND DETERMINISM 

Mill: Logic, Book VI, Chapter II. 

Paulsen: System of Ethics, Book II, Chapter IX. 

James: The Will to Beheve, pages 145 ff. 

Palmer: The Problem of Freedom. 

Schiller: Art. Hibbert Journal, Vol. VII, pages 802 ff. 

THE MEANING OF MORALITY 

Paulsen: System of Ethics, Book II, Chapter I. 
Spencer: Data by Ethics, Chapters I and II. 
Perry: The Moral Economy, Chapters I and II. 
Palmer: The Field of Ethics. 

HEDONISTIC AND ANTIHEDONISTIC THEORIES 

Mill: Utilitarianism. 

Sidgwick: Methods by Ethics, Book III, Chapter XIV; Book IV, 

Chapters I and II. 
Paulsen: System by Ethics, Book II, Chapter 11. 

THE MEANING OF RELIGION 

Pratt: The Psychology by Religious BeUef. 

Leuba: Psychology of Religion. 

Perey: The Approach to Philosophy, Chapters III, IV and VII. 



300 BIBLIOGRAPHY 

THE EXISTENCE OF GOD 

Descaktes: Meditations III, IV and V. 

Leotez: Microcosmos Tr., Vol. II, Book IX, Chapter IV. 

Pfleiderer: The Philosophy of Rehgion, Tr. I, Vol. Ill, pages 

253 £f. 
Paulsen: Introduction, Book I, Chapter II, pages 232 ff ., pages 366 £f. 
Royce: The conception of God. 
Mill: Three Essays on Religion. 



INDEX 



Agnosticism, 217 
Agnostic monism, 60 

Berkeley, see Idealism 

Cause, meaning of, 117; theories 
concerning, 118; knowledge 
of, 125 
Cosmology, problems of, 103 
Cosmological arguments, 283 

Determinism, argument for, 231; 
ethical implications of, 229 

Descartes, proofs of existence of 
God, 220; His doctrine of con- 
nection of mind and body, 100 

Dualism, dualistie theory of 
reality, 19; dualism of soul 
and body, 103 

Empiricism, empirical theory of 
knowledge, 175 

Ethics, problems of, 225; Rela- 
tion to metaphysics, 226; Rela- 
tion to Relio;ion, 270 

Free will, and determinism, 229 

God, conception of which is es- 
sential to religion, 265; Theistic 
and pantheistic conceptions 
of, 277 

Good, meaning of, 239 

Hedonism, theory of, 242; Ob- 
jections to and replies to objec- 
tions, 246 



Hume, see empirical theory of 
knowledge, 125; An imaginary 
dialogue with Kant, 182 

Idealism, idealistic conception 
of being, 15; Idealistic theory 
of reality, 39 

Kant, theory of knowledge, 164; 
An imaginary dialogue with, 
182; Theory of morality, 258 

Knowledge, meaning of, 149 

Leibniz, his pluralistic monism, 

86 
Locke, see empiricism 

Matter, materiaKsm, argument 
for, 26; Objections to, 26; 
and materialistic reply, 26 

Mechanism, mechanical explana- 
tion, 129 

Monism of Spinoza, 64; of Royce, 
70; The two world views, 
monism and pluralism, 64 

Pantheism, 277 

ParalleUsm, see Soul and its con- 
nection with the body 
Perfection as ethical end, 253 
Philosophy, meaning of, 1; Re- 
lation to science and to relig- 
ion, 1-5; Reasons for, 6-9 
Pluralism, see monism, 74 
Pragmatism, 191 ; Pragmatic 
meaning of knowledge, 198; 
Of truth, 202; Of reahty, 205; 
Objections to and the prag- 
matistic reply, 207 



301 



302 



INDEX 



Rationalism, meaning of ration- 
alistic theories of knowledge, 
157 

Reality, meaning of being real, 
the two theories, 14 

ReUgion, nature of 262; Rela- 
tion to philosophy, 5; To mor- 
ality, 270 

Royce, his conception of reaUty, 
56; His epistemology, 182; 
His conception of God, 292 

Soul, nature of, value of connec- 
tion with body, 92 

Space, its nature, 103; Our 
knowledge of, 103 



Scepticism, 217 
Spinoza, see Monism 

Teleology, teleological principle 
of explanation, 10; Teleolog- 
ical argument for existence of 
God, 286 

Theism, theistic conception of 
God, theistic arguments, 272 

Time, 103 

Truth, meaning of, 158; see ra- 
tionaUsm and pragmatism, 202 

Value, nature of value judg- 
ments, 223 



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